Currents of Time
by Nalale
Summary: Lothíriel was only a child when she was granted the gift of foresight but the path that life chose for her was something she never saw coming. Éomer grew up hardened as a warrior always looking for a threat. But what happens when what is at stake isn't anything physical but his very heart?
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: So this is my very first chapter of my very first fanfic! How exciting! This is a slight AU where Lothíriel meets Éomer before the Ring War. Many thanks to everyone who is taking the time to read this, I hope you enjoy it.**

**Special thanks to my Beta, Lady BlueJay who has been so very patient with me.**

**Please enjoy and review! (If you review as a guest, I can't answer your review/questions.)  
**

**Disclamer: I don't own anything in the Tolkien Universe.**

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Chapter 1

Dol Amroth

Spring 3009

The first vision had come when she had been only a child, walking through the corridors of her home to join her older brothers for a ride along the beach. The air outside was warming after the cool winter, and she could smell salt on the breeze wafting in through the open windows. Then, as if she had suddenly been struck, she had fallen to the ground. She never felt the impact of the fall nor heard the sounds of alarm from the guards who were stationed in that very corridor. Her eyes had clouded over and she saw the future.

She was no longer in her own body but within the body of another. She could see through his eyes, for she knew it was a man, though how she knew was beyond her. He felt somehow familiar, as if she had met him before, but like a word on the tip of her tongue, his identity escaped her. He was standing in a forest, sword drawn, cutting down every foe in his path. As she focused on his adversaries, she saw they were orcs, though they seemed to be taller and stronger than the orcs she had seen pictures of in her brother's books. Behind him were two small beings, protected only by the skill and ferocity of his sword– children she thought. With a proficiency that she had only ever seen in her eldest brother, the man moved through his enemies as easily as steel cuts through water. He continued on his path until a single arrow pierced his chest.

She felt the impact, and helplessness as the orc drew his bow again and shot once more. She heard the two children scream, though their shrieks were unintelligible through the pain. After a final arrow, she returned to her own body, screaming from the pain of each arrow. She looked down and saw nothing. There were no arrows, no blood on her dress. Tears ran down her face as she heard one of the guards trying to calm her gently.

"Lothíriel!" Her father called from the end of the hall and began sprinting towards her. Her three brothers were not far behind and they expressed similar noises of alarm. Her father, Prince Imrahil, knelt and studied her face and carefully pulled her into his arms when he saw that she had not been hurt. "What happened?"

She blinked her eyes to dry the tears. The pain she had experienced was disappearing quickly. She shook her head, "I don't know. Only that he died."

"Who died?" Elphir, her oldest brother questioned. He looked around him as if looking for an enemy. "I see none who have suffered an injury."

"I don't know who. It didn't happen here. He felt like someone I knew though." She hardly noticed the suspicious whispering that she was either a seer or insane from some of the maids who had been drawn to the commotion. She quietly told her father and brothers what she had seen and felt.

Her father looked to her second oldest brother, Erchirion, for an answer. "Have you ever found anything like this in your reading?"

Erchirion shook his head solemnly. "No, but I will begin to search for an answer." Lothíriel could not miss the gleam in her brother's eye as he turned on his heel and headed for the library. Ever the scholar, whenever he found a question he didn't know the answer to, he would search until he knew every facet of the truth regarding the matter.

"Amrothos," her father's voice commanded silence as he directed his youngest son, "You will go and fetch Master Hëmond from the House of Healing. I will have him inspect your sister." He waited for Amrothos to nod before turning back to Lothíriel and scooping her up in his arms. He walked back to her chamber at a smooth, measured pace. When he arrived at the door, it was opened at his knock by Lothíriel's maid, Kilfreth. The woman looked so taken aback to see her in her father's arms she forgot to curtsy to her prince, but instead rushed to the other side of the room and filled a silver basin with water.

Almost as soon as Lothíriel had been settled on the bed and her face had been washed, there was a sharp rap on the door. Kilfreth went to answer it and both Amrothos and Master Hëmond, head healer of Dol Amroth stepped into the room. Hanging across his chest was a satchel that he always carried with him. In it were things that would be necessary if there was an emergency. Instruments and herbs meant for healing the sick, elderly and injured. Lothíriel didn't feel at all sick or injured, although the pain had not completely disappeared from her chest. He came towards her bed and knelt down, studying her face with care, taking into account her red-rimmed eyes.

"I want you to tell me precisely what happened." His voice was sharp and to the point, like the rest of him. Lothíriel quickly recounted each of the details she could remember and finally concluded with how the pain had now disappeared entirely though she could clearly remember it all as if it had happened to her. The healer nodded as he stroked his chin. "I believe that this is a supernatural malady rather than that of the flesh. As I have known your daughter through all of her scrapes and bruises, I have found her to be an honest child and of sound mind." He turned his eyes away from Lothíriel and stood, turning to Prince Imrahil. "If my conclusion is correct, then I can only prescribe caution and relaxation." He reached into his bag and drew out a philter of liquid. "This is extract of lavender. Whenever she has an," he paused, "episode, give her a few drops in water. With that he stood and left. Lothíriel watched the door close with a click and knew that everything would change from that moment on.

* * *

Dol Amroth

Summer 3009

Lothíriel looked down at her plate of food. So much had happened over the past few months. She had been assigned guards to accompany her everywhere she went. They were there for mainly one purpose. To make sure she didn't hurt herself when a vision came upon her. She now could no longer look out onto the sea from the edge of the cliffs, nor could she go on swims into the oceans for fear that she would have a vision and drown. At one time, she had fallen while walking down a rocky path and hit her head on a rock. Master Hëmond had treated the cut on the side of her temple without much effort, but although the healer was very skilled, it had left a tiny white scar. Her father had pointed out that unless someone was really looking, they wouldn't see the scar. She remembered how she had been shunned by the village children when she had gone down the day after her first vision. The children who had been outside were quickly ushered back to their homes, their mothers afraid of what Lothíriel's gift would do to their children. She shouldn't have been surprised. The villagers were fairly suspicious of anyone who was different from them. It didn't help when she'd had a vision while in the town square, for all the people to see. She'd only had two other visions, but although one of the visions had been good, the result on her physical body had been the same.

She thought back on these visions. The first one had been a time when she experienced joy, though it had been very brief. She was again in the body of a man that had also felt familiar to her, though he seemed younger than the last. He was in the Houses of Healing, but although they were similar to the ones in Dol Amroth, they were clearly not the same. There was much more stone everywhere. The air was very cool, but the sun brought in a pale yellow light. In the garden, staring out of the windows, stood a woman with her back to him. She was in a white dress, as pale as a full moon, and her long, golden hair tumbled down her back with abandon, moving in the slight breeze. The man had moved up to the golden-haired woman, and without looking at her, took her hand quietly. The love and affection she had felt from them was beautiful and precious to her. When she had returned to herself, she had thought of them several times, wishing every so often she could find love like that someday.

The second vision had come shortly after her brother had been betrothed to Lady Meira. Lothíriel could tell from their meeting that they were meant for each other. She was the only one who could persuade Elphir to take time away from the training fields when he clearly wanted to train his swordplay. It happened when she was sitting with her family in her father's solar. She was in a woman's body, who she found out fairly quickly was Lady Meira due to not only Elphir's words of encouragement but also how he spoke her name with such love in his voice. Lothíriel felt pain in her center that racked her body while Master Hëmond encouraged her to push.

After several minutes of pain, Lothíriel heard the cry of a babe and the sound of joy in the healer's voice when he pronounced, "It is a boy. Dol Amroth has another fine prince!" Hearing this, Elphir left Meira's side only to return with a screaming baby, his face a healthy shade of red. Elphir kissed his wife's head fondly and deposited the babe in her arms before straightening and speaking to all in the room.

"I present Alphros; Prince and Heir of Dol Amroth!" Lothíriel had felt Meira's pride running through her chest as the room was heralded with joy and congratulations.

Awakening, she had found the whole of her family hovering over her, waiting for her to return. When she had told them what she had seen, her brother and betrothed had looked at each other with a look of great fondness. She had been very happy for them both and congratulated them even though she thought it would be many years in the future.

Both the visions had been strange and wonderful, and each time it had been with someone she knew, or at least felt she had known. Returning her thoughts to her plate, the food no longer held any appeal for her and she began to excuse herself from the meal. As she stood up to leave, the door behind her swung open. The sound alerting everyone in the great hall. Lothíriel turned her attention to the entryway only to see Erchirion carrying many scrolls in his arms. After arriving at the table, he moved several plates out of the way before allowing the older looking scrolls to fall onto the table before him.

"I've found it!" His voice was clear and he wore a bright smile on his face. He came over to Lothíriel's side before giving her a quick kiss on the top of her head and turning back to the table. "I was looking in all the wrong places. I searched throughout Father's line to see if there was any record of someone else having visions as Lothíriel had, but I never even thought until last night to look into Mother's line!" He was nearly shouting and the rest of the hall was silent, paying rapt attention. He pointed to one of the records that their mother had brought with her when she had married Prince Imrahil. "This is it! Lady Wilwara, of whom it is known was granted visions of the future by Ilúvatar." He rolled up that scroll and unrolled another. "And here is an excerpt from the epic poem of the Elven lady Leifónal who had the same gift during the first age.

_Leifónal was fair in both mind and body,_

_Her eyes saw many things._

_Ilúvatar visited with her through visions of the future,_

_And through them, she saw the world's fate._

"Don't you see?" Erchirion pulled out several more scrolls that were a continuation of the epic poem beside others that told of Lady Wilwara's sight. "It is something that is descended from the elves. In fact, in my studies, I have found that there is one Elf lord named Elrond Halfelven who dwells in Rivendell who has the gift of foresight. Perhaps he knows something that can help our dear sister!"

Lothíriel ran over and hugged her brother. He returned the embrace and felt the rest of her family join in. Now they knew what had happened, at least in part. His father smiled at her when their eyes met and he quietly confirmed that he would write to the Elven Lord. She felt such a sense of joy that she hardly noticed one of the guards who had exited the castle and made his way to the village.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

Dol Amroth

Autumn 3009

Imrahil read the letter that had arrived earlier that morning. The script was neat and flowing, befitting the writer. The contents had not surprised him, although he had not expected such a quick response to his queries, but then the ship bearing the messenger had enjoyed a fair wind. It read as such:

Imladris, August 20th, 3009

_Prince Imrahil – _

_Your letter has arrived and has brought to my attention something that I find both curious and alarming. While it is somewhat common for my people to gain the Sight, it is surprising that one within the race of Men has indeed gained this ability and remained sane. Your daughter must be truly strong of will, mind and heart. _

_Your daughter's abilities, though, are something that she could easily be taught to control. Although I fear that it will always cause her at least some discomfort, I doubt she will suffer such pain as the first time she experienced the Sight. It would be my honor to educate her in the way of the Sight. I am sad to say that I will not be able to journey to your home, but would be more than happy to have her here, in Imladris. My people will surely accept her as if she were one of our own and they would not only help her with her gift, but also educate her in all that we would teach our own children. _

_In the end, the decision lies with you. I believe that if you bring her to Imladris she will not only live in peace, but flourish under our tutelage. But in this choice, I defer to you._

_I await your reply,_

_Lord Elrond Imladris_

Imrahil had a difficult decision to make. Placing the letter on his desk he stood and paced the length of the room. He did loath to part with his only daughter. She was one of the only reminders he had of his dearly departed wife. Sighing, he fell into his chair. His eyes looked out towards the beach where all four of his children walked. Lothíriel and Amrothos were in the surf, playing as children should, unaware of the possibility that they may be separated for a good length of time. Elphir and Erchirion stepped behind the two younger siblings further up from the surf but nevertheless keeping watchful eyes on them. All three of the princess' brothers were doting and loved to be with their sister.

Turning away he reread the letter and thought of the people in the village. Although Erchirion had made it public knowledge that Lothíriel's gift had been due to her birthright as a daughter of Númenor, several gossipers had not let go of the story and by now it had no doubt circulated throughout all of Gondor. He was surprised he had heard nothing from his brother-in-law, Denethor. The Steward was someone who put great stock in gossip and hated when he or his family was ever talked about in any such light. Perhaps she would indeed flourish under the Elves' guidance.

He nodded and took his seat as he pulled out paper to pen his letter of response to Lord Elrond. Lothíriel would go to the Elves. They would help her so that she would master her gift and learn how to act as a lady befitting a descendant of Elves themselves. He couldn't help but feel a slight bitterness within himself that he had to part with his daughter under these circumstances. His only consolation was that he had no doubt she would return in due time and be proper in all ways and able to put any and all rumors about her to rest.

* * *

The dark stranger watched from the shadow of the trees. There was the Oracle that had been spoken of to his Lord and King. She was more beautiful than he had expected. She would be a great treasure to the kingdom of Harad. She walked along the beach slowly, playing with her brothers. Her laugh tinkling lightly. A wicked grin formed upon his face as he stepped further into the shadows to remain completely from the party's sight. It would do no good to be spotted now and give away his plans.

Two big men trailed behind the group of four royals. He had heard of the guards that shadowed the princess wherever she went. They would be difficult to get rid of, but not impossible. He studied everything about them from the way they walked, to how their eyes shifted as they gazed at their surroundings. On their hips were twin swords with the emblem of both Gondor's tree and Dol Amroth's swan-ship. He noted with satisfaction that they wore no armor besides light leather jerkins. No doubt they didn't feel threatened in their homeland and would rather not wear such heavy armor during the hottest season of the year.

Finally, satisfied with his appraisal of the group, he stepped further into the shadows and headed towards his small camp within the dense forest. He would have to wait until there were less people around, for he did not like his odds against five men. Pulling out some bread he decided to rest for the time being. He needed to be at his most alert when he went after the princess. Sleepy warriors tended to end up with a sword in their gut.

* * *

The sunset was beautiful as always, sea and sky meeting each other in a blaze of color. Lothíriel had returned from her sojourn at the beach and was now being dressed to prepare for her supper. Her father had requested to have it in his solar rather than the great hall. He must have had some news to share. He only ate in private for two occasions – her birthday and when he had information that he wanted to keep from the ears of people who would spread their knowledge without leave to do so. And her birthday would not arrive for a few weeks.

Her maid, Kilfreth, smoothed her straight, long, black locks down her back, braiding the crown to keep it away from her face. Lothíriel studied herself in the mirror, her stormy grey eyes gazing back as she scrutinized the dress that had been chosen for her that evening. The material was silky and a light peach that on anyone with a different skin tone might have looked insipid and dull, but the pretty hue suited her coloring. Happy with her outward appearance, she fingered her scar under one of the locks – it might be hidden, but she could always see it.

Kilfreth watched lovingly as Lothíriel got up and smoothed the front of her dress. She turned to be inspected by the maid who nodded in approval. Although she was still a child, Lothíriel had been told she had the eyes of someone who was years older. Those eyes saw the softening of the maid's expression as she moved forward and brushed the single loose strand of hair back into place.

"You look more like your mother every day," her voice was soft as she spoke, tears brimming her eyes. Lothíriel looked to the floor and thought of her mother. She had passed away shortly after giving birth to her and so Lothíriel could not remember what her mother looked like except for the cold expression on the statue that marked her grave.

"Thank you." She schooled her features as she looked up and allowed the mask to cover her expression. "I wonder what Father has planned to tell us tonight."

"Well, whatever it is, you look as though you are ready to receive a King." Kilfreth smiled at the young girl before she opened the door to the corridor and stood back, allowing the princess to pass through. The corridor was the same one that she had first encountered the Sight so many months ago. Hurrying away from that place she soon arrived at the door to her father's solar. She opened the door and noticed immediately that she was the last to arrive and the food had also already been served. Her father and brothers stood as she entered and Elphir shifted her chair so that she might have a seat beside the fire. Once she was settled, her eyes fell upon her father who was watching her thoughtfully while she was handed a plate covered with a variety meat, cheese and fruit. Looking up she noticed a strange expression on all of their faces.

"What is it? Is there something the matter with me?" She reached up to her hair to smooth it, but found that there was nothing wrong. Looking down her front she saw she had made no stains on the peach fabric.

"My sweet girl," her father began, kneeling in front of her, "a letter arrived today from Lord Elrond. He is the Elven lord of Imladris." She nodded in recognition of his name. "He has invited you to stay with him in his home for a few years so he can teach you how to use your gift. I have accepted the invitation."

Lothíriel opened her mouth to speak, but no sound exited. Closing it and licking her lips, she tried again, but when she spoke her voice was more shrill than she would have liked. "But Father, why are you sending me away? I love it here! This is my home!" She looked down to her plate of food as a thought came to her. "You're ashamed of me aren't you? Because I am not like you wanted me to be, and all our people think I am strange. Because I can't make them stop talking about me. It embarrasses you doesn't it?" Her father reached for her hand but she moved the plate off her lap and swiftly ran out of the solar. Through the open door all the four men could see Lothíriel's guards trailing after her.

Lothíriel ran heedlessly through the castle and out into the town. She needed to get to the beach where she could be alone. She tried, and failed, to wear the cold mask of indifference but each time she met the eyes of a inhabitant she saw herself as the shame of their household. She felt tears in her eyes but refused to let them fall in front of these people who so blatantly judged her. Finally reaching the beach, she allowed them to fall down her cheeks and she in turn fell to her knees on the sand.

She was so busy crying and fueling her self hurt that she didn't hear the slight twang of an arrow and the gasp of her guards. Her tears finished at last she collected herself and stared out into the waves as they crashed to shore. Losing all thought she simply existed, here at the edge of the sea. She closed her eyes and tried to enjoy it. As she was starting to recover, another vision came.

A man was riding on a great grey stallion. There were orcs and men all around as he swung his sword at them. They were not in Gondor but an empty plain with nothing but a village of tents. She felt the anger of the rider. His carnal desire to turn every orc he met into carnage for the vultures. He was stabbed in his leg but he did not feel the pain, she did. He only turned and in a swift motion, beheaded the creature. It fell, and the rider removed the knife from his calf and threw it onto the body. After all of the orcs were dead, he called out to one of his men that carried a sack with his saddlebags. After he saw the man had pulled out some herbs, needle and thread he nodded his head. He got off his horse swiftly, the wound in his leg screaming in pain, and removed his helmet. A very different helmet from those around him - this one had a white horsetail.

Lothíriel felt the terrible pain in her leg as she came back to her body and noticed that something was strange. She was no longer by the sea, but in a dense forest. She could hear the waves in the distance and knew she couldn't be too far if she could hear them so clearly. In front of her a fire crackled and an animal, likely a hare, was roasting on a spit above the fire. She tried to sit up but found that her wrists had been tightly bound behind her back. She began to cry out for help when a shadowy figure emerged into view. His body was lithe but she could see small muscles on his bare arms. His tunic was blood red with a black serpent winding itself on the front. He smiled, his expression triumphant.

"Good evening, little Oracle. I see that you have finally woken. Please don't shout, I would hate to have to gag you when you're such a pretty little thing to look at." His eyes darted around, searching the trees around them. "And I certainly hope you didn't alert anyone to our presence here, you wouldn't want any more blood on your hands would you?"

Lothíriel felt sick for a moment. 'Little oracle', is that what people thought of her? And then the rest of his words got through. "More blood?" It came out rough and quiet.

The grin became wider. "Indeed. You already have the deaths of your two faithful guards on your hands. Perhaps if you had managed to run away properly they would have lived." Lothíriel felt vomit rise in her throat but she didn't get the chance to empty her stomach as the man closed the distance between them swiftly. He grabbed her by the hair and lifted her into a sitting position. She cried out in pain, tears falling down her cheeks again. "Now, I'm only going to tell you this once, you are going to behave or else on the way I will make sure you watch when I kill someone else. I doubt that is something you would volunteer to see." When she nodded, he dropped his grasp on her hair.

He let her sink back to the ground and leaned against a tree, watching her. She felt her tears spring anew to her cheeks as she thought of the two guards who had been a part of her life for months. Then her ears pricked when she heard her father's hounds baying. The man stood straight suddenly as he heard the noise too and cursed foully. Quickly he picked her up and threw her over his shoulder as he began to sprint through the forest. It was not long before she heard the thunder of hooves bearing down on them. The man with the red tunic put her down under a small bush to hide her and turned around. She saw he held a small dagger in each hand.

As the horses circled around her, Lothíriel could hear the hiss of swords being pulled from their sheaths. Commands were issued quietly. She waited in anticipation for the sounds of battle between the men and her captor. One of the riders was so near she could see the horse's hooves a few feet from her head. She dared not spook the horse, so made no sound, only watched, waiting for it to move so she could announce her presence. She soon found that it wasn't necessary. One of the riders must have spotted her through the bush and jumped down to the ground. When he bent over she could see it was Gallíon, her father's captain of the guard. He smiled encouragingly and helped her out of the bush. The first person she saw was her brother, Elphir, sitting on top of his stallion, his sword drawn and ready. When she turned towards her captor she saw him holding his hands in surrender. Two more of her father's men had dismounted and were searching the underbrush around them as well. She could see the clear relief on their faces when they saw her. After seeing to her bonds, she was mounted up in front of Elphir and they rode back along the coast towards Dol Amroth. As they rode, her brother had given her his handkerchief so she could wipe the dirt from her face.

By the time they were making their way through the town surrounding the castle the first rays of dawn were sparkling on the water. Once they arrived in the courtyard of her home, Lothíriel saw her father and her other brothers standing and looking at them with the same clear relief Elphir and the Swan-Knights had worn when they had found her safe. She dismounted and rushed into their arms as they surrounded her protectively. "Oh, my sweet little Lothig , I was so very worried for you." Her father's voice was rough and quiet as he spoke, but when she looked to his face, he was smiling and his eyes spoke of unshed tears. Her brothers made noises of agreement before Erchirion straightened and spoke the question each of them were thinking.

"What happened? How were you captured and your guards killed?" His voice was clear, as usual and his face was a mask of concern.

"I had another vision." She started and felt her leg although she only the memory of the pain now. "I suppose my guards must have rushed to aid me when it happened, but when I returned to myself I had already been captured. Because of the sight, I couldn't even run away from him when I had the chance to." She looked down at her wrists where she could see the marks of bruises becoming darker. The rest of her family stepped out of their embrace with her and quietly looked at each other before her father spoke up once again.

"I feel even more convinced that the choice I have made for you to leave for Rivendell is a good one. Only Lord Elrond is able to help you control this. Perhaps you will find a way to stop it from happening at all."

Lothíriel opened her mouth to protest but Erchirion put his hand on her shoulder. When she looked up into his eyes, she saw him shake his head. His face was serious as he turned away from her and looked back to their father. "I agree, Father, but I don't think she should go there alone. One of the family should go along to look after Lothíriel. I would be happy to go."

Amrothos smiled. "Of course you would be happy to go. Think of all the books." His smile widened and he began to chuckle slightly. The rest of them slowly joined in as Erchirion's face reddened deeply.

"Well, I do agree that the knowledge the Elves guard in Rivendell would benefit me in my pursuits, that is not the only reason I have for offering my company on this lengthy," Erchirion paused as he searched for a word to befit the situation, "holiday."

Their father agreed, and led them to his study to begin planning the trip. It was decided that Erchirion and Lothíriel take a company of no less than thirty Swan-Knights to Rivendell. Their travels would commence after a week of packing so they could safely arrive before the first snowfall. They would travel by boat to Minas Tirith and stay for a night at their home within the city. From there they would ride, crossing through Rohan and then head north towards Rivendell. Their plans made, Prince Imrahil sent out a messenger at once with the information for Lord Denethor so that he could ensure that they would not be unannounced when both entering the city and crossing into Rohan.

That night Kilfreth began Lothíriel's packing, picking out gowns that would suit for both the northern cold winters and cool summers alike. She also made sure to add plenty of material for more gowns should any be needed during her stay. She was quietly babbling about how to behave properly with Elves but Lothíriel's mind wandered. She thought back on her last vision. Each of the previous visions she had experienced had been through someone she could feel slightly familiar with, but the man with the horsetail helmet was completely new. She had no sense that she knew the person. But, why? Would she ever meet the man? She shook her head slightly and stood up from her seat facing the window.

"I believe I should head to bed soon Kilfreth." She began to release her hair from it's braid. "Will you please help me out of this dress?" As her maid noticed the look of quiet contemplation on the young princess' face, she nodded and silently began to undress her. Once Lothíriel had been changed into her nightgown, Kilfreth bobbed a quick curtsy before making her way out of the chamber.

As Lothíriel looked towards the dark ceiling above her large bed, she began to wonder how long it would be before she would return to her home and how much everything would change once she got back. Turning away from the ceiling and all thoughts of her uncertain future, she closed her eyes and let the sound of the nearby ocean's rolling waves sing her to sleep.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

Dol Amroth

Autumn 3009

The morning of Lothíriel's departure came quickly. Erchirion and Elphir stood next to her on the small vessel that would travel up the Anduin towards Minas Tirith. Prince Imrahil had agreed that Erchirion should join Lothíriel in Rivendell and at the last minute decided that Elphir would accompany them as far as Minas Tirith so as to see his uncle and cousins, Boromir and Faramir. Imrahil had heard news of the shadow growing in the east and that even now, from the walls of the White City, one could see the darkness. It was rumored that very shadow had haunted Lothíriel's aunt who had been Denethor's wife, Finduilas, to her dying day.

The day was warm as Lothíriel looked out on the deck towards the dwindling figures of her family on the docks. She took a deep breath of salty air, wondering when next she would see her home. To her left stood Erchirion, his face showing he had similar feelings of regret, except he looked as if he was also excited. She smiled at him as she recognized his desire to explore the world around him. If it was safe, she thought, he would have left Dol Amroth years ago in search of books covering all different subjects, rare and common alike. He met her eyes and smiled warmly to his little sister.

"Just think," he gestured to the north, "In a few short weeks, we will arrive in Rivendell and be in the company of Elves. Think of the possibilities. Think of the books!" He laughed and combed his fingers through his hair like he always did when he started to think of a new research topic. Lothíriel turned around and spotted Elphir, his expression one of amusement at his brother's enthusiasm, though she knew he would be keeping a watchful eye on the shores and surrounding waters for anything amiss. The guards that had come along with them had been handpicked not only by their father, but by Elphir himself. They would not allow anything to happen to Prince Imrahil's children.

Lothíriel turned away from the sea and walked over to Elphir who only looked down at her briefly but put his hand on her shoulder, holding her close. "What am I going to do with myself when I am not chasing after you, little sister?"

Lothíriel looked up at him and felt tears spring to her eyes. Blinking furiously she tried to compose herself. She did not want to be a sniveling wreck when she had only so much time with her eldest brother. Without a word, she simply hugged him tightly before pulling away from his embrace. She felt tired and emotional; it would be better to rest now when the sun was high in the sky, baking the deck. Walking to her cabin, she turned her face towards Minas Tirith – It would only be two or three days on this boat and then she would be on a horse for nearly two months. She was glad she was a fairly good rider, but she had no doubts that such a lengthy journey would take its toll one way or another. Taking a deep breath of the salty air once more, she sighed and entered into the cool of the cabin.

* * *

Minas Tirith

Autumn 3009

The white walls loomed above her as they approached the City. She had only been to Minas Tirith once before when she had been four years old and she hardly remembered the trip. Lothíriel remembered playing in the palace gardens with her cousins. They would play hide and seek and she had always won because of how quietly she was able to walk. Her father had said that the ability to walk quieter than the breeze that blew through trees was a gift that she had been blessed with by Ilúvatar. She had used it to her advantage in every game that required stealth. She smiled at the memory before turning her attention back to her horse.

The bay gelding walked smoothly, his gait sure and steady. He had been a parting gift from her father a few days before they had left. Lothíriel had spent nearly every waking moment that she hadn't already focused on packing to her new mount. She had picked out what she felt was a suitable name for such a proud being – Hazelfal. She was glad Aunt Ivriniel had fought for her to be able to ride astride to Rivendell. Her father had begun to insist that Lothíriel should ride properly like a true lady of Gondor before her aunt had stepped in. Lothíriel could only imagine how uncomfortable traveling would be if she had to ride side saddle.

As they passed the gates, Lothíriel – working to look every bit the princess she was – had to focus on keeping her mouth shut. She could clearly see the work of the Princes of Númenor in the stone work. Each one fit perfectly into the next as if they were not separate blocks but whole and impenetrable. In the lower levels there were several people bustling about their business. Shops and stalls stood open, beckoning to prospective customers. Smells of food, that were being prepared, filled Lothíriel's nose, causing a rogue rumble to escape her stomach. People made way but did nothing to hide their stares at the city's newest arrivals. Lothíriel felt a flush rush onto her cheeks as she noticed several children of her age pointing and laughing, inviting her with silent signals to join them in whatever game they were playing. She was tempted to dismount and spend time enjoying herself with other children but Erchirion must have anticipated her desire. He steered his horse beside hers, cutting off the view of the children and guided her through the next levels.

As they climbed higher, Lothíriel noticed that there were fewer and fewer people moving about in the streets. The loud rumble of conversation disappeared and was replaced with a heavy silence. By the time they reached their home on the sixth level of the city, the only noise they heard was from their horses' hooves. Dismounting from Hazelfal, she declined from handing the reins to the stable boy, instead choosing to look after her own horse. It was her belief that a horse would bond more with the one who looked after almost all of their needs, and Lothíriel really felt the need for a friend in this lonely, quiet place.

Once she had finished with Hazelfal, she went up to her chamber where one of the housemaids helped her with her bath and dressed her for her meal with her uncle and cousins. She had picked a sea-foam green dress that brought out the gray of her eyes. Stepping in front of the mirror she smoothed her dress and studied her hair. She had chosen to wear it loose to show off the dark tresses that fell down her back. Nodding to her image in the mirror, satisfied she looked her best, she made her way down the steps.

Immediately she was greeted enthusiastically by Boromir and Faramir. They rushed forward and began to comment on how much she had grown since they had last seen her. She beamed with pride when Boromir noted that she looked every bit like her mother as he escorted her to her seat in the dining room. Before she could take a seat she had to be presented to her uncle. Lord Denethor was a solemn looking man at the best of times. Lothíriel shuddered to think how he was when he was upset by anything. He studied her calmly before he nodded.

"Good evening, Princess of Dol Amroth." His voice was deeper than she had remembered. She was a bit surprised that he had used her formal title. She had been taught that it was proper to respond in kind so she made a deep bow.

"My Lord Steward," her eyes met the floor until his fingers gently curled themselves and turned her face upwards.

"Rise, daughter of Gondor." He smiled at her before taking a seat in front of her, allowing her eyes to be level with his own. "It is good to see you again after so many years. You have matured much, though it is quite clear you are still a child. Although that does have it's own charm." His smile widened as he pulled something out of his robes. "I have something for you, my dear." He held it up and she saw it was a large, silver circlet. It was fairly simple with only a thin, twisting braid. The only jewel it had was a white circle that was in the center. The metal dipped to it so that if it were to be placed on her head, it would fall directly in the middle of her forehead. The back was not connected so as to be adjustable. Lothíriel turned her eyes away from the circlet and returned them to her uncle's who was watching her expectantly.

"It's beautiful, Uncle," Lothíriel started forgetting the formality for a moment. "Why are you showing it to me?" She silently tried to measure its circumference to no avail.

"It is for you to wear, Lothíriel. You will wear it from now on while in Minas Tirith. It will help anyone who doesn't know about your gift to pay you special deference. Here, let me help you put it on." Lothíriel dipped her head at his indication and he fitted the circlet around her head easily. It was heavier than the size implied and the gemstone in the center was as cold as death. When she raised her head back up he nodded his approval and beckoned for Faramir to see her to her seat beside him.

After she was seated she looked to her brothers. Both of their faces held the same look of discomfort, but she didn't know why. She reached up and touched the gemstone on her forehead. It had not warmed at all even several minutes after wearing it. It was like a perfect circle of ice. Her uncle made note of her expression before she could school it and looked at her cooly for a few minutes. Gathering up her courage she spoke.

"Uncle, where did you find this circlet? It is very odd that it is so cold in the center." She smiled at him gently. She shuffled her food around on her plate a bit, unable to put any to her mouth a strange empty feeling in the pit of her stomach taking away her appetite. Lord Denethor quickly stuffed some strips of meat into his mouth and swallowed before turning to answer her query.

"I had it made for you, my dear. The stone is quartz and the metal is a rich silver. I have been told that many fortune tellers use quartz to help them see into the future. I found it to be fitting that you have such a jewel. As to why it does not heat, I do not know. I did request that the Wizard Gandalf bless it and he directed me to Wizard Saruman who was more than happy to help as soon as I told him of your sight. He did say in his letter with the jewel that it should help to clarify the visions. I do not know how. Perhaps it has something to do with that." He finished his speech to her and turned to Boromir and began a heated conversation with him on how he was planning his next strike against their enemies. After their meal had concluded, Lothíriel stood to excuse herself. She felt very tired and knew that she would need to be rested for the lengthy trip they had ahead of them. But as she bowed to her uncle one last time, he stopped her. "I would speak with you of your trip into Rohan. You will be stopping in Edoras, will you not?"

Lothíriel opened her mouth, but Erchirion appeared at her side and began to speak in place of her. "Our route takes us from Edoras to the gap of Rohan. Father has sent messengers ahead and we have received missives that we can expect an escort from the Riders of Rohan so long as we are in their country. After Rohan we will be escorted by Elladan and Elohir, Lord Elrond's two sons, to Rivendell where Imladris lies. Father feels it to be right to stay for as long as Lord Elrond deems Lothíriel needs to be tutored." He smiled, but it did not reach his eyes. Lothíriel looked up to her brother for a moment, concerned as to what was bothering him so much. "Now, I believe that my little sister is tired from all the excitement of seeing the city. So I will see her to bed." He bowed to their uncle and quickly ushered Lothíriel out of the room towards her chamber.

"Although you would have no way of knowing this, Uncle is acting very strange. I do not know why. I believe it would be for the best if we were to leave as early as possible tomorrow so as to spend as little time in his company as feasible." His words were hushed and as he spoke his eyes watched the shadows and corners of the halls and rooms they passed. Lothíriel looked up to her brother and nodded, not fully understanding what it was that made him distrust their uncle who had so readily welcomed them into the city.

They continued the rest of the way in silence until they arrived at Lothíriel's door. Erchirion pulled Lothíriel into his arms and kissed the top of her head, just as her father would have, had he been there. Lothíriel felt tears welling up in her eyes as a feeling of homesickness overwhelmed her, but she swiftly blinked them away and bid her brother good night.

* * *

Lothíriel and Erchirion woke before dawn and were just finishing their breakfast when Elphir arrived at their table. He did not seem surprised that the two had awoken so early on the day of their departure. Lothíriel stood and walked towards her brother and hugged him. He quickly accepted the embrace and stroked her hair.

"Oh, little sister, I will miss you so much. I know that you will be safe so long as you are in the company of Lord Elrond's house. I wish I could join you and help you throughout your tutelage. But I am confident you will excel everyone's expectations and return to us educated in everything you need know as a proper princess of Dol Amroth, and more." Elphir smiled at her as he let her go. She nodded at him, the words caught in her throat.

Erchirion came up behind her and placed his hand on her shoulder. "We should be leaving very soon. I would like to leave before Uncle wakes. You will give our excuses to him, Brother?"

Elphir nodded and Lothíriel was swiftly guided out of the hall towards the stables. She did not need to change her clothing as she had chosen to wear her riding habit to breakfast. The material was a bright yellow like the early morning sun. Her leggings were a dark leather and her boots came up to her knees. Her long hair was plaited against her head so as to stay out of her face. When she got to the stables she looked at her beautiful gelding. Hazelfal was already saddled and the saddlebags with her clothing and other necessities were already strapped on. Everything was ready for her. Elphir helped her mount Hazelfal and held her hand for a long moment as he looked up to his younger sister. He did not speak and his face was stoic as he let go and turned back to the house.

Erchirion urged his mount out of the stables and Lothíriel swiftly followed. She turned her face towards the sky and felt a small breeze caress her cheeks. Soon she would be traveling to the land of the horselords. The thought of the strange lands before her sent a feeling of trepidation and excitement throughout her. Moving her focus back to the path directly ahead, she followed her brother out of the city and onto the Pelennor fields. She turned back one last time to lay eyes upon the fair white city. She wondered how long it would be until she would return to her homeland.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

The Border of Rohan and Gondor

Autumn 3009

Éomer looked out over the plains of his forefathers the wind blowing his long hair out behind him. Firestorm moved restlessly, not liking the forced idleness. The young stallion showed great promise and had been born four years previously, bred from the same line as the horses Éomer's father had always favored. Hopefully Firefoot would serve the Mark for many years to come, as would his Rider.

In company with Marshal Elfhelm, Éomer waited for the Gondorians to arrive. He didn't know why they were passing through their lands but they had acquired permission from his uncle, Théoden King. Truly that was all Éomer needed to know. He trusted his uncle and his judgment. It had been his uncle who had adopted both he and his younger sister, Éowyn, eight years before they were orphaned.

As he heard the riders from Gondor approach, he turned and faced them. His eyes scanned the group of horsemen and found that among the brightly armored warriors were two who looked like they had never seen a battle before. One of the figures he could see was clearly a man, but the way he sat on his horse suggested that he mostly rode for pleasure rather than in pursuit of an enemy. The small figure beside him wore their cape with the hood over their face, hiding their identity from view. They came galloping towards them to stop short at the ford that was the border between their two countries. As they crossed the water, Marshal Elfhelm moved his mount closer. Éomer kept his eyes upon the hooded figure, who looked too small to be one of the men. When he saw the leather-clad legs and boots he assumed that it was a boy who was accompanying his master across Middle-Earth.

Both companies of horsemen drew their mounts across from each other. The man and the caped boy hung behind the company of what Éomer could only assume were guards. Elfhelm encouraged his mount to the front of the éored. The man behind his guards put a gentle hand on the caped boy and nodded towards the front of guards. After a few quick and quiet words together, they nodded again and walked their horses forward slowly. Éomer couldn't help but admire not only the boy's horse but also his riding ability. Moving forward, the guards maneuvered their mounts precisely until they stood like two straight columns. Two of the guards stepped out of their formation as soon as the caped boy passed them and followed closely behind.

"Good day, Riders of Rohan." The man spoke. He reached into his jacket and retrieved a letter that had Théoden King's seal. "We have permission to travel through your lands to the Gap of Rohan and beyond. I have been instructed by Lord Denethor that you will be escorting us to Edoras where we may thank King Théoden personally. Was he wrong?"

The way that he spoke made Éomer irritated, though he didn't know why. He had been polite and courteous. Did he feel looked down on? He shook his head for a moment to clear out the thoughts. Elfhelm gave him a strange look but, after taking the letter with his king's seal, spoke cautiously, " You are welcomed in Rohan. I am Marshal Elfhelm, at your service. Your lord was correct in his understanding that we are to be your escort, but first, as I have given you my name, you should return the courtesy and give me the names of you and your cape-clad friend."

The man smiled at Elfhelm before nodding, "I am Prince Erchirion of Dol Amroth and this is my sister, Princess Lothíriel of Dol Amroth." As soon as the second name was spoken, the boy, threw back his hood and looked directly at the group of horselords. Éomer felt his jaw drop when he saw the young boy had in fact been a young girl.

* * *

Lothíriel looked towards the group of horselords, trying her best to seem confident and calm. She knew that they were all surprised to see her. One of them in particular who looked to be Erchirion's age seemed particularly stunned. She wondered what he had thought about her before she had taken off the hood. Quietly she studied the faces of each man until settling back on the Marshal. She heard him speaking their native tongue for a moment before riding his mount across the distance towards Erchirion. He locked hands with Erchirion for a moment before simply expressing a more casual greeting. The rest of his group followed his lead and found their place among the rest of the guards who had been traveling with them. Only one other rider stayed next to the Marshal as they began their collective journey slowly towards the west and Edoras. It was the rider who had looked so stunned at her identity. As their horses walked in tandem, he tried to make polite conversation.

"Good day, Princess." He began. Lothíriel rather liked the sound of his voice. It was deep and had a strange raspy quality so unlike the smooth tones back in Gondor. He had long hair and dark blue eyes that in a different light might look black. She smiled at him for a moment before returning the gesture in kind.

"Good day, rider. I am Princess Lothíriel, though I believe you already know that from my brother." Her smile was welcoming to the man as he stared intensely at her face. "May I have your name?" she asked.

"I am called Éomer, son of Éomund and Théodwyn." He looked away from her face and studied the path ahead of them intensely. He smiled at a thought.

"What is it?" Lothíriel questioned, wanting to join in. She felt odd at her boldness. Normally she was shy around strangers, but something about Éomer made her feel safe, even when they stood in a land that could be attacked at any time by bandits, orcs or dunlendings.

He shook his head at her question for a moment before opening his mouth to answer her, "It's nothing important. If I may ask, why are you going to the elves?" He looked back at her face for a moment, his eyes scrutinizing her again. His gaze pierced her and she felt her cheeks heat. She looked down at her reins, studying them with the same intensity that he was studying her. She was about to answer when Erchirion, likely sensing how uncomfortable she was becoming, placed himself at Éomer's side.

"Marshal Elfhelm tells me that you are nephew to the King. What is Edoras like?" Erchirion's voice was informal, but Lothíriel knew her brother was working to gather the information on the cities of Rohan – from their architecture to the way they passed on knowledge. Lothíriel sat in silence as she listened to her brother quiz the rider. She looked back down at her hands and thought about what Éomer would say if she told him about her sight. She did not know how people viewed the gift of sight in Rohan. Would he think she was evil or simply be suspicious like the villagers back in Dol Amroth. Would he think to use her for his own purposes? Her mind went back to the man who had tried to abduct her. He had called her the Oracle. What did that mean? She shivered at the memory of being bound. She pulled her cloak tighter around her and saw out of the corner of her eye that Éomer was once again watching her.

They rode on for a few more hours changing every hour from cantering to walking to cantering again. When they made camp, Marshal Elfhelm told them that they would arrive in Edoras in just over a week. The sky above them was darkening quickly as tents were efficiently set up. The rate at which the Rohirrim were able to set up camp and take care of their horses spoke more about how much experience they had than any book could. Lothíriel spied her brother watching from the entrance of his tent.

She would have gone over to him, but she still held Hazelfal's reins and he needed to be looked after before she joined her brother for supper. Leading the horse away from the tents but still within the light of the fires, she began to remove her beautiful horse's saddle and blanket. Taking some carrot slices out of her smallest saddlebag she held them up for Hazelfal. After eating them quickly he nuzzled her hand gently, searching for more. She let go of his reins and asked him quietly in Sindarin to stay where he was so she could watch over him. The only response she had was that he dipped his head and began to eat the grass near him. Taking out the brush she started to stroke the horse's coat slowly and sing a lullaby to it softly to it.

_I see the moon, the moon sees me_

_shining through the leaves of the old oak tree_

_Oh, let the light that shines on me_

_shine on the one I love._

_Over the mountain, over the sea,_

_back where my heart is longing to be_

_Oh, let the light that shines on me_

_shine on the one I love._

_I hear the lark, the lark hears me_

_singing from the leaves of the old oak tree_

_Oh, let the lark that sings to me_

_sing to the one I love,_

_Over the mountains, over the sea_

_back where my heart is longing to be_

_Oh, let the lark that sings to me_

_sing to the one I love._

* * *

Éomer was drawn to the singing of the little princess and came to the edge of camp and carefully watched her. Her voice was haunting, like someone calling back from the grave. When she finished her song, she continued the rhythm by gently humming the same tune. Éomer approved of what she was doing, she was making sure that her horse knew where she was so to avoid spooking it, while calming it with her soothing song. He had to smile at the careful way she stroked him with the little brush, clearly made for tiny, delicate hands. Her long hair was braided down her back, a very practical hairstyle for a young woman who has riding a long way. His sister had always rejected such notions as pinned hair, perhaps when she saw a girl on more equal footing conducting the practice, she would consider it every once in a while. He truly pitied his sister's maid whenever Éowyn went on her rides through the countryside surrounding Edoras.

He was quickly pulled from his musings when he heard a sharp cry coming from the Princess. He looked at her and found she had collapsed beside her horse, the brush still in her hand. Quickly calling for aid from his comrades, he rushed to her, carefully moving her away from her horse whose ears laid back flat upon his head. Speaking soothing words of Rohirric to the animal he turned his attention to the young girl in his arms. He saw no wounds on her that could account for her collapse, though he couldn't be entirely sure as he cursed himself for not paying attention. Around him riders from his éored as well as those who accompanied the royals of Dol Amroth were looking at the princess, waiting for her to wake. Éomer was glad one of the riders had the sense to lead the horse over to the others so as to keep him from bolting.

"Lothíriel!" Her brother hastened to the girl's side and dropped on his knees beside Éomer. "Oh, not again.," he murmured quietly. Placing his hands on her forehead he nodded slightly before standing. "Please, take her to my tent. She will need food when she," he paused for only a moment, "wakes." One of the two guards that had been watching Lothíriel throughout the day came forward to pick her up, but before he could, Éomer stood with her in his arms, nodding politely at the man. He felt stunned at the protectiveness he felt towards the young princess.

As he walked past the men that had circled around them he made note of the darker looks coming from those who were from Dol Amroth. Why did they seem so downcast? Was their princess of failing health? He shook his head. She would not be traveling if she were ill, would she? He kept trying to think of reasons why she would collapse like that. Looking over her he saw there was nothing until he looked at the side of her face. It was difficult to make out in the darker light, but as he got closer to a fire, he noticed a small line on her temple. He would not have noticed it if he had not been holding her so close. He wondered darkly how she had received such a mark.

Arriving at the tent, he bent his head under the flap that had been tied to the top of the tent and gently placed Lothíriel onto a cot that had been set up earlier. He heard the prince behind him thank him as he passed the young rider, pulling up a stool beside the cot. Prince Erchirion sat and no longer paid any heed to Éomer. After a few moments, Lothíriel's eyes opened and she smiled weakly at her brother and grasped his arm tightly. Seeing the closeness of the siblings, he began to miss his own sister. He loved being a rider, protecting his homeland from the King's enemies, but he did regret that his duty to his King and country took him away from his sister so often.

He exited the tent and began walking towards one of the fires slowly. He reassured the other riders he passed that the princess had woken up and seemed well enough. The information quickly passed throughout the groups and by the time he found a seat before one of the smaller fires, the camp had cheered up considerably. The Gondorians and Rohirrim warriors got along fairly well as they discussed fighting and riding techniques. The noise of conversation buzzed around him as he began on his supper of travel bread and dried meat. As the night progressed, most of the men who were still awake began to make their way to their tents. Four men, two Rohirrim and two Gondorians, stood awake for the first night-guard shift. Seeing that all was quiet, Éomer walked over to his own tent and laid down to sleep, unaware of the threat that was stealthily making its way through the plains towards them.


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

Rohan

Autumn 3009

Éomer felt like he had only been asleep for a few seconds when the attack came. With the efficiency that only a warrior who had been thrown into battle several times before, he flung on his gear and grabbed his sword, charging out of his tent to enter into the chaos. Bringing his sword up, he defended himself from an orc that came hurtling towards him while checking the rest of the camp for his charges. His eyes caught on Lothíriel's little frame standing in a long white nightgown, her hair braided down her back. Around her were several Swan-Knights as well as some of his Riders. His eyes scanned for Erchirion, but didn't spot him until he noticed the prince darting out of his tent, carrying a bundle in his arms. Éomer took a moment to process what it was, then it hit him – books. The idiot was risking his life to make sure his books would survive the night.

Who was this spoiled man to risk himself for some measly sheets of paper? Enraged, Éomer, lunged at the orc battling him, taking off the creature's head with one furious swipe of his sword. His anger fueled by worry for the princess, opponent after opponent met the same fate. Finally, after what felt like both moments and hours, the battle was over. Any orc they hadn't killed had run away where the darkness of the night hid them from sight. Éomer looked around the camp to assess the damage. He was relieved to see that only one man had been wounded and saw to it that he was tended to by one of the riders who had shown some talent at the art of healing. Seeing that generally all was well again, he let the fire of rage burn in him as he stomped towards the group where Princess Lothíriel and Prince Erchirion stood.

"That was unexpecte-" the prince started to say with a smile towards Éomer. The smile became a frown when he saw Éomer's face.

"Are you daft? Perhaps you only have half a brain." Éomer's shout was so loud the rest of the camp fell silent and turned to pay attention to him. "To think that someone who seemed as smart as you would go back for books in the midst of battle!"

"I didn't think-" Erchirion's voice was low but Éomer cut him off again.

"That's right you didn't think!" His rage kept him from showing any propriety he would have shown to the prince, "For someone to go traipsing after their precious books when they could have been helping others to defend themselves! Not to mention what would have happened if you were killed."

"I knew my sister would have been fine, but-" he still couldn't get a full thought in before Éomer cut into him again.

"If either of you had died while in our charge, every warrior here meant to protect you would have been disgraced. You would have shamed us all, not to mention leaving your sister all alone!"

This time, instead of Erchirion responding, the princess stepped forward slightly, "It's alright. Erchirion needs his books."

The rage blinded him as he turned in full force, "Stay out of it!" he growled. As soon as he saw the expression on her face change from the innocent trusting gaze, to one of fear as she backed away quickly, hiding behind one of her guards, he felt like a bucket of ice had been poured over his head. His rage that had felt so righteous and just only moments before drained out of him. He turned back to face Prince Erchirion and saw that it was his turn to be furious.

"My actions aside," started the prince, "you have no right to speak to my sister in such a way!" He gathered himself up as he stood to his full height. Although he was a head shorter than Éomer, he seemed to stand above him, pinning everyone around him with his gaze. "I shouldn't have to explain the worth of books, of the need to protect them with my very life to someone who only sees life from the hilt of his sword. You don't know anything of the world beyond that." He turned away and grabbing Lothíriel's wrist pulling her with him towards his tent. "You will stay away from me and my sister. You may apologize if you wish, but that is the only contact I want between the two of you!" With that, he entered the tent, cutting off any response. The rest of the camp stood staring at either Éomer or the tent in silence.

* * *

Lothíriel was pulled into the tent quickly by her brother. She had never seen her brother get so angry before. Elphir was normally the hothead of the family while Erchirion remained calm and logical. She had been woken in a hurry and carried to a group of other armed men when the attack had begun earlier that night. Circling around her, they were able to focus on fighting their enemies rather than whether an enemy was creeping up behind them. She had also heard the shouts of alarm as her brother began to run towards his tent, followed by two Swan-Knights. As quickly as the fight had begun, it was over, only now there lay the bodies of the dead scattered throughout the camp.

The blood and the stink made her retch, nearly causing her stomach to empty its contents. She was trying to hold onto her supper when the deep voice of Éomer filled the night air. It was so strong and commanding, Lothíriel was able to focus on it to keep her upset stomach in check. She began to move forward until she was by her brother's side. She noticed that Éomer was yelling at her brother about going after his books. When Lothíriel tried to help by pointing out that Erchirion's books were very valuable and had important information, Éomer had turned his anger towards her. She had not expected him to round on her, and she could see the burning hot anger there. It was so strong and powerful she decided that she did not ever want to be on the receiving end of his anger again and had moved away, hiding her embarrassment and fear of him.

That was when her brother had gathered himself and began to berate Éomer. He did not wait for any response from the rider, but had ended the conversation by leaving. Lothíriel looked up to her brother who was still holding onto her wrist with such force it was beginning to ache. "Erchirion," she called his name softly. She tried to pry his fingers off of her arm. "You're hurting me." He looked down at her and stared at her for a few moments before dropping her wrist with a quick apology. He took a seat on the cot and put his head in between his hands.

"Which book was it?" She took a seat next to her brother and began to gently rub his back. She knew he had to have initially gone back for one in particular before remembering to grab some of the other important books. Without a word, he held out a small blue book with a silver binding. Lothíriel understood as soon as she saw it. Carefully she took it from Erchirion and opened it with slow, precise movements. Although, she had never met her mother, she knew from Erchirion, that this book was their mother's favorite. Each page was filled with poems or songs. Erchirion almost always carried it with him and Lothíriel would see him leafing through it whenever he was having difficulties with one of his scholarly quests. If it had been destroyed, it would be as if a piece of their mother had been destroyed along with it. After a few moments Erchirion sat back up and placed his hands on his lap.

Placing the book back into her brother's waiting hands. She saw his eyes had turned red from unshed tears and when he spoke, his voice was rough. "I couldn't risk it. If I did nothing, and anything had happened to destroy this book, I couldn't have lived with myself." He turned his gaze away from Lothíriel. "I have so little of her left. Everyday, it seems like my memories of her fade and become less and less real. The only thing I have left of her that I can always count on to be real is this book." Lothíriel reached over and held onto her brother's hand. She felt it would be wrong to mention that the only memories she had of her mother were from a time when she was too young to truly remember anything aside from her dreams of a gentle touch or quiet lullaby.

"I understand," her voice was barely above a whisper. She saw the building tears in Erchirion's eyes begin to spill over. "I understand." She repeated as she reached around and hugged her brother as her own tears began to fall.

* * *

The next morning Éomer looked up to the sky. It was not the light blue that it had been yesterday, but had turned gray with heavy rain clouds. Elfhelm had gone through all of their goods after the attack the previous night and found that most of the food except for the salted meats that the Gondorians brought had been undamaged. The dried meat they had would last them until they reached Edoras. Turning his attention to the goings on of the camp, he saw that the tents were beginning to be packed up. Walking swiftly next to one of the riders from his éored he offered his help taking down one of the larger tents. From the corner of his eye he saw that Lothíriel had exited her tent, being closely followed by the two guards who seemed to be her constant shadow. His gaze followed her as she walked slowly through the camp towards the horses. She offered her mount a few sliced apples before taking out the same brush she had used the night before when she had collapsed. As he watched, he noted how close the guards stood next to their princess.

Possibly feeling his gaze on her, she turned and their eyes connected. She smiled timidly at him and began to wave until her brother came towards her. He saw which way she was looking and glared at Éomer with a dark scowl on his face before whispering something to Lothíriel. The smile vanished and she nodded to her older brother. After a few moments of uneasy silence between the two she was helped onto her horse who had been saddled by one of the guards. Seeing that the camp was all packed around him, Éomer strode towards Firestorm and quickly prepared him for the day's ride. As he mounted Firestorm the first drops of rain fell from the sky. Sighing to himself, he took out his cloak and swiftly pulled the hood over his head before the rain began to truly fall in what seemed like a waterfall. As they rode towards Edoras and his family, he prayed that the rest of their journey would be uneventful.

* * *

After nearly ten days in the saddle, Lothíriel had her first sighting of the Golden Hall. Erchirion had read about it previously and it was described at a distance as seeming to be on fire when the sun was setting. Lothíriel understood that now. As she looked at it, she had to remind herself that it was merely the sun being reflected off the golden thatched roof. Erchirion smiled and pulled out one of the journals he had brought with him and began to sketch the hall from where he was on the saddle. Elfhelm let them take it in for a few moments before paying heed to the shouts of his riders to gallop home.

As their horses rushed towards the city that was so different from Minas Tirith but beautiful all the same, Lothíriel felt comfort in how alive Edoras felt. Once they had entered the city, many stable hands made themselves known and a few of them rushed forwards and greeted the riders as fathers and friends. Lothíriel smiled quietly and saw out of the corner of her eye that Éomer was leading his horse up the hill himself.

She had tried to explain to Erchirion how he was being unreasonable to not allow any contact between the two when Éomer was the nephew of the King. She also explained that he had not only been unreasonable towards him, for Éomer was only trying to keep them both safe, as well as she had not been truly offended when he had shouted at her. By all rights, if it had been their father scolding anyone and she had interjected herself as she did, he would have shouted at her too. Erchirion had not listened to her reasoning. He was stubborn.

Deciding that she would not allow her brother to taint any relations with the King, she lead her own horse after Éomer. If Erchirion was not going to apologize for not making it clear why that one book was so important to him as well as apologize, she had to. She stood at the entrance to the stables for a few moments, collecting herself. She told herself that he would not be angry today because today he had returned home. Checking behind her to see that her brother did not see her entering the stables, she took a step forward.

Immediately her nose filled with the smell of horse and sweat and rich earth. She smiled. No matter where she went, stables always were the same in smell at least. But these stables were ornate as befitting a land where horses played such an important role, the woodwork was decorated with intricate carvings of horses, warriors and emblems of Rohan. Interchanging colors of red, green and gold bordered the stalls. Blankets for the horses had been woven in the same colors. Everything seemed so bright and alive that Lothíriel felt she was more at home here than she had ever been in either Dol Amroth or Minas Tirith. She saw an empty stall near her and swiftly led Hazelfal into it.

"I wouldn't put your horse there if I were you." The deep voice was the same as she had expected. Turning she smiled at Éomer and bowed for a moment.

"I have come to apologize to you on behalf of my brother. He should not have shouted at you and should have made it clear to you the importance of the book he went back for." She straightened and saw a wry smile on his lips. He shook his head for a moment.

"Even if he had, my temper was far gone when I confronted him in the first place. I was the one in the wrong. And no matter what, you didn't do anything wrong at all, and I shouted at you." Lothíriel felt relief flood into her as she heard his words. He chuckled before gesturing back to the stall where Hazelfal was standing. "I meant it about moving your horse. It is where my sister's horse resides and she does not take to intruders very well." Hastily she led her horse out away from the empty stall and followed Éomer to another that was closer to where his own was.

"Are you happy to be home?" She looked at him for a few moments. He nodded and ran his fingers through his hair.

"It is very beautiful here." She noted his look of surprise. "Minas Tirith is beautiful as well, but in the same way a tomb is coldly beautiful. You can not stay there all the time or you become cold like it." She smiled sadly. He opened his mouth to respond but before a sound could be made, there was activity at the entrance to the stables. Both Éomer and Lothíriel turned, forgetting their conversation when they saw Erchirion standing there. His face showed cold anger as he saw both his sister and Éomer. He strode forward and grabbed Lothíriel's arm in a vice like grip. She gasped in pain as his grip tightened.

"Did I not instruct," his voice was low, but around him there was no sound except for that of swishing tails, "that you were to stay away from my sister?" Éomer folded his arms over his chest and gazed down at her brother for a few moments.

"I was only apologizing to her, as you had made it very clear was allowed." No longer did a smile play on his lips. Nor did amusement fill his eyes. Lothíriel felt sad to see the smile they had been sharing fade. Finally pulling her arm out of her brother's grasp she stepped in front of him. He went to reach for her again but she evaded him.

"And I was apologizing to him for you." She saw the flash in her brother's eyes and continued before he had a chance to speak. "Éomer has made it very clear that he admits to being in the wrong, but that still gave you no right to ban his presence. He is the nephew to the King of a country in which we are guests!" As her voice rose, so did her anger towards his stubbornness. "If the situation had been reversed and he and his sister had been in Dol Amroth, would you tolerate the amount of disrespect that you have shown him?"

She saw understanding and pride both in Erchirion's eyes as he looked up at Éomer. "I admit that I was wrong to ban you from contact with my sister. Perhaps I overreacted." His face hardened for a moment. "But I still do not like you."

"And what, pray tell, is wrong with my brother?"


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6

Edoras

Autumn 3009

The voice that spoke was feminine. Lothíriel peered around to see a young woman advancing towards them, leading a bored looking horse. The girl held her head high allowing her long blonde hair to cascade down her back. Confident grey eyes took in the three individuals who were standing in front of her and her lips drew back into a fine line. Without speaking she led her horse to the stall Éomer had previously instructed Lothíriel to vacate, making sure there was food and water available before turning back onto the now silent group on her heel.

Lothíriel felt strange as she looked at this young woman. It was as if she had met her before, though she knew she would clearly remember meeting someone as self-possessed and composed as this girl seemed to be.

With nothing more than a glance towards Lothíriel or Éomer the young woman pointed a long finger pointed towards Erchirion.

"I believe I asked you a question. What is wrong with my brother?" Her voice was soft when she spoke this time, nearly a whisper, but holding a thread of steel. Erchirion looked at her cooly. Lothíriel knew he tended to be shy around the ladies of their homeland but here he seemed more sure of himself. He stood tall and straight as the two exchanged glances.

"I was merely stating, that although there may have been a misunderstanding between us initially, it no longer impedes my judgement of Éomer."

The young woman dropped the finger she had been pointing at him and crossed her arms over her chest. "What misunderstanding is that? You have yet to answer my question." Lothíriel saw her brother's lips turn even further down as he answered her query.

"Your brother allowed his temper to get the better of him and yelled at my sister." The young woman turned her attention to Lothíriel and studied her for several moments. Lothíriel felt heat rising in her cheeks and timidly avoided her gaze. Out of the corner of Lothíriel's eye, she saw Erchirion smile smugly as the woman nodded and turned to her brother?

"And what possible reason did you have for yelling at a young girl?" Her voice was louder. Éomer ran his fingers through his long hair and averted his own gaze.

"Éowyn," his voice was low as he spoke her name. She sighed and shook her head, not allowing her brother to finish his thought.

"It doesn't matter. I heard your apologies, so nothing else can be done until the hurt is mended with time." She stooped slightly and came down to Lothíriel's eye level. Studiously ignoring the two men beside them she smiled at Lothíriel. "Welcome to Edoras. I am Éowyn."

Lothíriel relaxed slightly. "I am Lothíriel, Princess of Dol Amroth." She tried to make her voice sound strong as she spoke, but couldn't hide the waver from it. "Thank you for your generous welcome." Éowyn's smiled widened as she stood tall once again and offered her arm to Lothíriel.

"Well at least one of you has some manners." Once Lothíriel had taken Éowyn's arm, she led the princess out of the stables. Walking so smoothly it could have been called gliding, they made their way to the stairs leading to the Golden Hall.

* * *

Éomer watched his sister in silence and smiled to himself. She had changed so much, yet at the same time, she hadn't changed at all. Just like their mother, she was obsessively protective of those who she felt could not defend themselves. After a few moments he turned to Erchirion who seemed surprised to have his sister commandeered. Clearing his throat, he motioned for Erchirion to proceed after both their sisters. The Prince nodded and walked on. A stablehand came towards the horses while Éomer petted Firestorm for a moment, quietly apologizing for not staying to take care of his mount himself. Turning on his heel, he strode towards the hall and as he began to climb the stairs he saw Éowyn and Lothíriel both walking through the big doors.

Once he entered the hall, he reveled in the familiar sights of Meduseld. Every carving and tapestry was just as he had remembered. This is where his heart belonged. This is where he felt truly at home. A few yards ahead Éowyn was waiting for him to join them. When he got closer he saw awe in Lothíriel and Erchirion's eyes. The princess reached out her a small hand and lightly touched one of the pillars to her right. Éowyn instructed the two Gondorians to walk behind them and both pairs of siblings moved towards the throne gracefully.

Éomer stopped several feet from the King while Éowyn took her place to the left of her uncle. Éomer bowed and when he straightened he spoke loudly and clearly enough to fill all of Meduseld with his voice. "Hail Théoden King, Lord and Master of the Riddermark!" He looked into his uncle's eyes and saw the warmth and kindness he had seen since childhood. Éomer stepped to the side, allowing his uncle to have a clear view of Lothíriel and Erchirion. "May I present Prince Erchirion and Princess Lothíriel of Dol Amroth?" When both of their names were called they stepped forward and bowed to the King as well.

"Welcome to the Riddermark my honored guests!" Théoden's jovial voice boomed throughout the hall. Stepping down he came towards Erchirion and Lothíriel. "Please rise and tell me of your journey. How have you found Rohan?" Erchirion opened his mouth to speak but didn't get the chance as Lothíriel's excited face lifted with a smile.

"It is so beautiful here!" Her voice was not that of a dutiful and perfect princess but that of an excited little girl. "All around me while we rode was the grass, and the way it waved reminded me so strongly of the Bay of Belfalas. Who would have ever thought of a place with so much green grass that you could make a sea of it?" Éomer noticed his uncle's look of approval at the young girl's description of the countryside, but she wasn't done. "And the wood work you have here in Edoras is something to truly revel in! So many delicate and intricate carvings! Gondor's stonework competes of course, but that was done by the Númenóreans. But this," she touched a nearby pillar, "this was done by a human wood-smith. It is truly extraordinary." Her last sentence was barely above a whisper.

Théoden chuckled softly and smiled at Lothíriel. "I am glad to see that my land has had such an effect on you, little princess." He turned to Erchirion. "And what do you think, Prince?"

"I now see why this country is called that of the Horselords. Your mastery and dedication to the creatures is unrivaled, Your Majesty." Erchirion's voice was clear as he addressed the King formally. Théoden's smile faded before turning back to Éomer.

"How were your travels?" Théoden no longer looked like he was as jovial as before but was focused as he watched Éomer's face.

"The mark has seen three orc attacks. One village was destroyed by fire during one of the attacks. The second was out on the plains where the breeders were camped. We lost three good horses to the scum. The final attack came during the night within our own camp on the first night the Gondorians joined us." Éomer's words were short and clipped as he reported the information. He saw the stoney look in Éowyn's eyes. Thinking back on how she had changed since both their parent's had died, he wasn't surprised to see her closing herself off from the memories and worry. Shifting his gaze back to his uncle's face, he saw the serious, quiet contemplation on his face before he nodded.

"This is grave news. Tonight I would like a more detailed report from both you and Marshal Elfhelm." Théoden turned back to the two Gondorians and smiled again. "For now, I will have Haróf show you to your chambers and then we will join each other for supper." He nodded again to Éomer and turned away.

* * *

Lothíriel sat on her bed and stretched. Her chamber was comfortable and spacious and the fire gave the room a warm glow. She had begun to go through the saddlebag that held her dresses when a quick rap sounded at her door. She smiled as the thought of her brother joining her before going to supper. Placing her bag on top of a chair she opened the door, surprised to see Éowyn standing outside.

"Hello," Éowyn walked through the doorway when Lothíriel moved to the side to make room. "Are you settling in alright?" She looked around and spotted the bag sitting on the chair. "May I?" Lothíriel nodded and took a seat on her bed again. Éowyn opened the bag carefully and pulled out a few dresses that were meant for warmer weather. She inspected them and after a few moments nodded her approval. "This material is very well made. Is it true that in the south the winters are fairly warmer?"

Lothíriel nodded as she stood up. "During the winter months in Dol Amroth it rains almost constantly. The sky and sea are gray and the wind is more mild and cool than the rest of the year."

Éowyn folded up the dresses and placed them back in Lothíriel's bag. "I would love to see what a winter without snow is like. You're so fortunate to be able to travel away from your home." Éowyn looked towards the fire and frowned. "I would love to travel but I must stay in Edoras by my Uncle's command." She cleared her throat softly and shook her head. "I am sitting here moping instead of accomplishing my goal."

Lothíriel's brow came together slightly, "What goal?"

"Tomorrow I would like to show you around Edoras. I would invite you to ride, but no doubt you would like to take a break from that." She smiled as she turned to face Lothíriel. Lothíriel returned the smile.

"I would love that." Lothíriel pulled her hair out from her braid and began to comb through it with her fingers. "I don't suppose I have enough time before supper to bathe, do I?"

"You have plenty of time. I will go and have someone draw you a bath. And since you didn't bring your maid, I will happily lend you mine for the evening." Éowyn's reached out and squeezed Lothíriel's shoulder encouragingly before turning and exiting the room.

"Thank you!" Lothíriel called out as the door closed behind her newfound friend. It was only minutes later when a tub was carried in with a group of maids carrying buckets of steaming water. After the tub had been filled, all of the maids left except for one who dipped quickly into a bow and spoke.

"I am Leifa, my lady. Lady Éowyn made it clear that you required my assistance." Lothíriel was surprised that she spoke Westron so well, though Lothíriel could hear Leifa's accent mirrored that of her homeland rather than someone born in Gondor. Lothíriel nodded and pulled off the tunic she had been wearing during the ride. The maid took the dusty clothing and neatly folded it before placing it on top of the saddlebag that was still residing on the chair. Without a word, Leifa offered her hand as Lothíriel stepped into the hot bath water. She sighed as the water warmed her body and soothed her sore muscles. Stretching out in the tub, she simply sat for nearly five minutes before looking back towards Leifa.

"Do you have anything to wash out my hair?" Lothíriel smiled shyly at the maid. Leifa nodded and returned the smile and stepped forward. Pulling soap out of a bag she had been carrying she placed the bag back down and walked over to Lothíriel.

"You have very beautiful hair." She commented as she began to clean her charge. Her voice was quiet as she spoke, almost as if she had not been speaking to Lothíriel but to herself.

Lothíriel thought back on the towns they had passed. "I noticed that not many people in Rohan have dark hair."

"The only other person I know who has such dark hair is Prince Théodred." Leifa's voice picked up a bit as she mentioned the Rohirric prince.

Lothíriel turned and looked at Leifa. "What is he like? I didn't see him when we arrived."

"The prince is a fine and handsome man. He is knowledgeable in both the field of battle and the history and stories of our people. He is both honorable and kind to everyone, no matter what their station is in life." Leifa was quickly getting louder as she continued to praise her prince. "He has won many battles and is currently in the west, guarding our borders. I – well I mean, Edoras – looks forward to his return." When she finished, Leifa blushed slightly and cleared her throat before adding much more quietly, "It's a pity you won't get to meet him while you are here."

"It is a pity. I would have loved to have met someone who is so greatly loved by his people." Lothíriel said before turning back around and laying her head into the water, rinsing the soap from it. Lothíriel began questioning Leifa about her homeland and tried to describe the sea when Leifa asked about it. After what felt like both hours and minutes, Lothíriel stepped out of the bath feeling completely rejuvenated. She pulled out the red dress she had brought with her and held it out for Leifa to see. The maid stepped forward, taking the garment and helped Lothíriel into it. Once she was dressed, Lothíriel fingered her wet hair. Turning to Leifa she asked, "How much longer do we have until supper?"

"Not much longer, I'm afraid. You'll have to pin up your hair, which is a shame given how lovely it is." Leifa began to run a brush through her hair, slowly taking out the tangles. When it was laying flat she quickly braided it elaborately atop Lothíriel's head. After tucking in the final strands she took a step back, a look of admiration on her face. "You look lovely, my lady."

Lothíriel looked at the small mirror in front of her and smiled to Leifa. "Thank you. It looks beautiful." Just as she stood, there was a knock at the door. Leifa rushed to it and when opened Erchirion came striding in.

"Good, you're ready. We should go to the great hall before we're late." Erchirion offered Lothíriel his arm as he spoke. She took it and walked quickly beside him. She watched him glance around and mutter something under his breath. She was just about to inquire as to what he had said when they came upon Éowyn and her brother. She pinched her brother's arm and he turned his attention forward and smiled coolly towards the two. Lothíriel's smile was more genuine. She let go of Erchirion's arm and rushed forward towards Éowyn. They walked together towards the table and took up seats next to each other.

* * *

Éomer watched his sister and Lothíriel talking and laughing together and smiled. He wasn't surprised they had found companionship in each other as they both seemed like lonely souls who desired love and friendship. Ever since they had met, he had seen a warmth and light in Éowyn that hadn't been there since before their parents' deaths. He desperately wished that he could have been around for his little sister more, to help her keep her laughter and light from dying, but his homeland – his family – needed to be protected. And he wasn't going to leave that up to someone else when he was perfectly capable of doing it himself. Shaking his head slightly he cast away the dark thoughts of the enemies that his people needed protection from and stepped forward into the conversation around him.

"Your sister seems happy." His uncle's voice was quiet so as not to be heard by Éowyn. He sighed before clapping him on the shoulder and leading him to a seat next to his own. "Tell me more of your journey. How are the people? And what do you think of our guests?"

Éomer leaned back in his chair and picked up a cup of mead and drank it before answering. "The countryside is well. The harvest is near completion and there have been very few raids on their granaries. About the Gondorians," he looked at Lothíriel where she sat for a moment before paying attention to her brother. Turning back to his uncle he finished, "the young princess is but a child and sees the world as such. While we were coming here she collapsed while grooming her horse but it only happened once to my knowledge."

"She groomed her own horse?" Théoden's face did not mask his surprise before changing to a look of pleasure. His eyes took in Lothíriel and spoke almost in a whisper, "She does seem to be very comfortable in Rohan, and everyone she meets likes her." He cleared his throat and stroked his beard before speaking up again. "And what of the prince?"

Éomer scoffed lightly, "He is stubborn and naïve. He seems to think all the answers in the world can be found from the pages of a book. He is smart in a scholarly way but in the way of the world and battle he is more of a child than his sister." He noted a look of amusement in his uncle's face. "When our camp was attacked he ran back to his tent for books. I could understand if it was his sister, but she was safe already."

The king looked towards Erchirion before commenting, "Your mother was the same way. Her mother brought so many wonderful books with both stories and histories with her from Gondor and Théodwyn would sit in the library for days learning about the world. It wasn't until she met your father that she began to spend more time outside than with her nose in a book."

The two sat in silence for the rest of their meal. Éomer watched his sister with a smile as she laughed about things Lothíriel said. After finishing the meal, the two girls lazily strolled through the corridors towards their chambers for the evening. Satisfied that his sister had retired he stood and made his way towards his own chamber. The next day would be one of rest for him and his fellow horsemen. Most of them would be spending time with their loved ones in Edoras but he was not one for lounging about. As early as the sun rose he knew he would be out at the practice field training the newest recruits. Feeling satisfied after a long day and good meal, he laid his head down on his pillow and closed his eyes allowing sweet dreams of laughing children invade his mind.


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7

Edoras

Autumn 3009

The noon sun shone down where Lothíriel stood and although the light of it spread over her body, the heat that would normally accompany it was absent. Even though it was only the beginning of the cooler season, the air was more chilled and brisk than it was back in Dol Amroth. Taking a full breath she looked towards Éowyn. The two girls had spent a busy morning exploring the city. Lothíriel reveled in the company of the Rohirric children as they all played together. She found Éowyn sitting on the steps leading up to Meduseld and began to approach, smiling all the while.

"You look positively radiant!" Éowyn's voice was jovial. She stood as Lothíriel came closer and began to slowly trail up the steps. "It's nearly time for the noon meal." Lothíriel greeted this information with a rumble of her stomach making both the girls chuckle. They were still smiling to each other when Éomer walked up from behind them.

"I see you two are enjoying yourselves." He pulled Éowyn into a brief hug from the side before letting her go and turning his face towards the Golden Hall. "Did Uncle mention wanting to speak to me?"

Éowyn frowned slightly and shook her head. "I've barely seen Uncle all day, I've spent the morning with Lothíriel." She looked up at her brother quizzically. "Why?"

"I was summoned from the training fields. I was told Uncle wants to speak to me urgently." Éomer's face was a mask of indifference, but Lothíriel could see a glint of unease within his eyes, though she thought better than to comment on it.

"Well, we'd best not keep him waiting." Éowyn grabbed Lothíriel's arm and hooked it through her own and began to boldly and quickly advance up the steps. Éomer stepped in front of them but kept up a pace the two girls could maintain. When they entered the hall, Marshal Elfhelm greeted Éomer with a sharp pat on the shoulder and a nod to Éowyn and Lothíriel. Éomer continued his approach towards the throne while Éowyn guided Lothíriel to the side where they could watch without being in the way.

"Éomer, it is good you are here." Théoden King stood as he saw his nephew and held his arms open. Éomer stepped into his Uncle's embrace for a moment before stepping back and bowing deeply.

"You summoned me, my King?" He did not straighten until the King gestured for him to rise up. When he opened his mouth this time he spoke clearly and the rest of the hall fell into silence.

"I have watched you grow from a boy to a man ever since you came to live here after my sister's death. You have not only become a fine man but a rider that your father would be proud of." Lothíriel saw pride in his eyes as the King continued. "You are a smart and strong rider who puts nothing before the good of our country, even your own life. It is because of this that I have decided that you are ready to take the next step as a rider." He turned around and picked up something before turning back. In his hands was a helmet that had on it's top a white horsetail. Lothíriel bit back a gasp as she recognized it from her vision. "Éomer, son of Éomund, kneel." She watched as the helmet approached Éomer's head. The look of pride and joy in both Éomer and Éowyn's faces kept Lothíriel rooted to her spot next to Éowyn, her eyes wide. When the helmet was in place Éomer stood and Théoden declared finally, "You are now Third Marshal of Rohan, Master of Aldburg!"

A great cheer sounded which seemed to make the whole building shudder. Many people, men and women alike, came up to Éomer with words of congratulation and slaps on the shoulders and back. Lothíriel didn't move even when Éowyn swept past her and ran towards her brother, embracing him excitedly. Lothíriel tried to breath evenly as she remembered the vision of the orcs tumbling over each other as they attacked the horses. The pain from being stabbed in the leg seemed to blossom within her memory. She was focusing so fully on maintaining her composure that the sudden presence of Erchirion beside her caused her to jump, letting out the gasp she had been holding in.

"What is the matter?" Erchirion's voice was quiet as he placed a hand on her shoulder softly.

Lothíriel pointed to where Éomer stood. "I've seen him before."

Erchirion's face looked confused. "Well, of course you've seen him before. He escorted us here." Lothíriel shook her head.

"No, I've _seen_ him!" She saw understanding come through Erchirion's eyes and he nodded.

"How do you know you saw him specifically?" Erchirion watched Éomer and the people gathered around him.

"His helmet. I saw it in his hands after an attack. He was hurt in his leg." She watched as Erchirion nodded and turned her attention back to Éomer. She wondered, not for the first time, if she should reveal her gift to their hosts. Before she had simply kept from telling him because she did not know who it affected, but now she knew, without a doubt. She nodded and began to step forward when her brother grabbed hold of her shoulder. She turned to him and watched as he shook his head. Shaking off his hand she lifted her chin stubbornly and carefully walked towards where Éomer was standing. But before she took more than a few steps, the King led him away.

* * *

Éowyn had never been so proud of her brother as she was this day. She had always known he would be bound for a position of leadership, but to be given the command of Marshal at only nineteen was something she had never heard of before. Her happiness was bittersweet as she realized that with his new position of power he would be away from Edoras more, much like their cousin Théodred was.

She shook her head lightly, casting away the sad thoughts and looked around at the other people there. Standing off to one side with a strange look on her face was Lothíriel. Éowyn wandered over towards her, stopping every now and again when one of the men or women stopped her to offer their congratulations to her for her brother. After a few minutes, Éowyn was at Lothíriel's side. The girl was still staring at the door Éomer and the King had walked through with a focused look. Éowyn gently reached over and touched Lothíriel's shoulder, startling her.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to sneak up on you. Is everything alright?" With some effort, Lothíriel took her eyes off of the door and looked at Éowyn's face.

"I'm fine. I just," she paused, considering her words for a few seconds, "wanted to congratulate your brother." Éowyn smiled at Lothíriel.

"When I see my brother next, I will tell him. But for now, we still have our meal to attend to and the rest of the day to spend. You are leaving tomorrow and there is still something here that you need to see." Lothíriel returned Éowyn's smile and nodded. Éowyn peered towards the tables and saw they were getting more and more crowded. She gestured towards the door of Meduseld. "Go wait for me outside, I'll be right out with some food." With that she turned and made her way towards the kitchens.

As she entered the busy area, the strong smells of herbs, meat and bread filled the air. Finding a basket that would fit her needs, Éowyn began filling it with colorful fruits and slices of bread. Coming towards the meats she saw chicken. Satisfied that she had a proper Rohirric meal for Lothíriel to eat she confidently walked out of the kitchen with her basket in hand. As she passed by many riders she greeted them cordially.

Right before she exited the hall, she was stopped by Gríma, one of her uncle's lesser advisors. When she saw who it was she smiled politely. Unlike many of his fellow countrymen he tended to dress in very dark colors and his hair was dark as well. His skin was pale and clammy like that of someone who often suffered a malady. She didn't know why, but whenever he was around she felt a strange pit in her stomach. She brushed off the hand he had placed on her arm before slightly turning away from him.

"Good day, Gríma, I'm afraid I don't have much time to speak with you as Princess Lothíriel is awaiting me outside." She side-stepped quickly and avoided his grasp as he reached for her again. She nodded to him with the smile still plastered on her face before rushing out of the door.

* * *

Lothíriel took a seat on one of the steps leading up to Meduseld to wait for Éowyn. A gentle breeze caused her hair to flow around her, leading her to think of how it would fan out underwater whenever she went swimming. The pang of homesickness pulled at her in the quiet moment and she thought back to her favorite spots along the beach and in the woods of Dol Amroth. Several men all dressed in their armor passed by her but she paid them no mind. She was so deep in thought that she didn't realize someone had come closer to her until they spoke.

"You are missing your home. I can tell; I have worn that look myself several times." The deep voice was one Lothíriel recognized immediately. She stood and looked up at Éomer who was wearing the same armor he had been wearing during their ride throughout Rohan, the only change to it was that the helmet he held underneath his arm was the same horsetail helmet he had received from the King not even an hour before.

"You're leaving," although it wasn't a question he nodded.

"As Third Marshal, I have been given reign over Aldburg, my family home, as well as guardianship of the East-Mark. There are many threats that would like nothing more than to destroy and oppress the people there and it is my duty and honor to defend them. Marshal Elfhelm will be continuing as your escort on your journey. I wish you the best." He nodded and before Lothíriel could even get a word out he was halfway to the stables. She sank back down onto the step and watched him.

After a few minutes Éowyn joined her and Lothíriel told her of her brother's departure. A sad look crossed Éowyn's face as she nodded and began down the steps. At the entrance of the stables she handed Lothíriel the basket of food and entered. Lothíriel watched as the siblings embraced each other tightly, speaking quietly in Rohirric. After some time they let go of each other and Éomer kissed his sister's head before placing his helmet on his own and mounting Firestorm. Lothíriel stepped to the side of the entrance to make way as Éomer and Firestorm flew past, followed by his new éored. Éowyn came up to Lothíriel after the stables had been emptied and wiped a single tear off her cheek.

"I hate it whenever he goes. I don't have much family left and I can't imagine losing my brother too." She cleared her throat and took the basket from Lothíriel's hands. She led Lothíriel through Edoras until they reached a garden that was overgrown with weeds. Lothíriel touched the leaves of a long dead flower. As Éowyn began to set out the food onto a blanket she spoke quietly. "This was my grandmother's garden. What I've been told by my Uncle is that she was from Gondor and brought many of the flowers from her homeland with her. After she died this place fell into disrepair. I've tried to revive it, but I haven't had any luck. So," she finished setting out the food and stood, admiring her work. "I hide here from everyone else and imagine what it would look like if it was alive again."

"I recognize some of these flowers from the gardens of Dol Amroth. This one," she pointed to a brown, wilted flower, "would have been either a bright blue or red with long petals that would have flowed outward like the bottom of a dress." She described each of the flowers in detail to Éowyn as they walked through the garden. When she finished they had arrived back at the blanket with the food ready to be eaten.

"The things from Gondor sound very beautiful. Do you miss it very much?" Éowyn took a seat on the blanket. Lothíriel sat with her and took a red apple and looked at it for a few moments.

"There are so many things that I miss. The salty air is always around you. I miss walking along the tide in my bare feet and feeling the surf tickling my toes. I miss my family. I find myself wondering what my brothers are doing now." Lothíriel felt tears spring up in her eyes. Before even a drop could fall onto her cheeks, she blinked them away and took a deep breath as she bit into the apple she was holding. Éowyn looked at the ground remaining silent for only a few moments.

"I'm sorry. You don't have to talk about Gondor if it bothers you." Lothíriel shook her head vigorously.

"It doesn't bother me to talk of my home. I just miss it, just as you would miss Rohan if you were away from it. This place is new and exciting for me, but my family is back in Gondor." Lothíriel cleared her throat before continuing. "Tell me more about Rohan, please." Éowyn met Lothíriel's eyes and nodded. She began reciting stories of warriors, both men and women, who had proudly fought for their country against wild men and orcs alike. Each time she described one of the shieldmaidens, Éowyn's face would brighten with excitement. Occasionally she would stand and act out some of the fights only to fall to her knees dramatically at the finale declaring her undying devotion to some lost love. She continued on and on from one subject to another that both girls hardly noticed the sun beginning to set in the distance.

"-and Uncle says that I am to learn the art of swordplay and marksmanship!" Éowyn was so immersed as she expressed her joy at the next topic that she jumped when the presence of one of the King's guards appeared before them.

"I apologize for interrupting my ladies," he bowed deeply before them, "but your Uncle wishes for you to join him before the evening meal." At the guard's words Éowyn and Lothíriel turned in shock and looked at the orange horizon before breaking out into giggles. Éowyn stood and nodded to the guard before collecting each of the items that were still sitting on the ground. Lothíriel bent to help and in only a few minutes the area was cleared and the items were put away in the basket. They giggled again as they walked towards Meduseld but stifled them before entering the hall.

* * *

Lothíriel sprawled out onto her bed, her stomach full and her eyes heavy from a long, but very pleasant day spent with a friend. She felt a smile spread across her lips as she thought about the fact that she finally had a _friend_. Sitting up she looked around the room and sighed, her smile fading slowly. She would miss this place. Although she could tell – by the empty places where she would have placed the odd knick-knack or treasure – this was not her home, and although she did miss her home greatly, she felt more at home and at peace here than she had in Dol Amroth and certainly Minas Tirith. Pulling her knees to her chest, she hid her face from the light and wept bitterly.

The sound of a soft knock filled the room for a moment. Wiping away the tears, Lothíriel opened the door and saw Erchirion standing quietly. When he saw Lothíriel's red eyes and expression he entered the room swiftly and closed the door before pulling her into his embrace. She sobbed into her brother's shirt while he ran his hands through her hair, whispering quiet encouragements all the while. When she finally finished she looked up into his compassionate eyes.

"I hate that Father sent me away." Erchirion's face changed for a moment to slight disbelief before leading her over to one of the two chairs set beside the fireplace.

"It was for your good and safety." His voice was somber and quiet. His thumb wiped a single tear away from her cheek before continuing. "And it won't be forever. Think of this as a long vacation where you get to make new friends and see new, wondrous places." He smiled slightly, "I'll bet even Elphir and Amrothos couldn't begin to dream about the beautiful places and different people we've seen already in these past days." Lothíriel nodded feeling a small smile play on her lips.

"You and I are the dreamers in our family." She chuckled lightly and Erchirion returned the smile before laughing quietly.

"Now," he pulled out a book from his pocket, "shall I read you a story?" Lothíriel nodded and curled up in the chair she was occupying as her brother began. "In the land across the sea was a fair elf lady…"


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter 8

Border of Rohan and Tharbad

Autumn, 3009

Lothíriel stretched in the saddle letting some of the stiffness escape her before gazing at the two riders approaching in the distance. She had no doubt that they were the elf twins, Elladan and Elrohir. She judged, based on the distance, that they would join their company later that evening, after the sun had set. Turning her attention to Erchirion who stood at her side, waiting to help her from Hazelfal, she dismounted. She led Hazelfal away towards the other horses. Just as she had been doing throughout the trip, she began grooming him with her guards and brother hovering behind only a few paces away.

Grooming him was less of a chore and more of a way to relax both herself and her horse after a long day of riding. Being together for such a journey had brought them closer and Lothíriel could already read into how Hazelfal felt. She now knew how the riders of Rohan could understand their horses with only a look. When she finished with Hazelfal she led him back towards the other horses. One of her guards came forward and picked up the saddle she was struggling to carry. She smiled gratefully at him before making her way towards one of the fires and her supper. Taking a seat beside Erchirion she stretched her hands out towards the warmth of the flames.

"I wouldn't have thought it would already be this cold in October." Erchirion's voice was low as he spoke. He watched the sky for a few moments. "I hope that we continue to experience dry weather. Can you imagine how cold and unpleasant traveling would be if it was wet?" Lothíriel didn't want to think of anything becoming much colder than it was now, though she did not fool herself into thinking that it would not become more frigid as the days went on.

As they sat beside the fire the sound of hooves thundered towards the camp. Within moments two dark haired strangers joined the gathering. Their movements were fluid and graceful and the very air around them seemed to hum with life. Their long hair fell down their backs with pieces from the front braided together. The only thing that interrupted the sleek fall of their hair was the pointed ears that poked out. Many of the riders openly stared at them and while they seemed intrigued, they gave the newcomers a wide berth.

They approached the fire where Lothíriel and Erchirion sat. When they were only a few paces away, Erchirion stood and bowed to the elf lords. Lothíriel began to follow his example when both held up their hands and shook their heads, their eyes dancing with joy as their mouths formed a solemn line. Erchirion stepped forward to greet them.

"Good evening my lords. I trust that you have journeyed well." He was smiling so broadly that Lothíriel knew he wasn't even trying to mask his excitement. "I must confess that I have never had the pleasure of an elf's acquaintance, and to meet two at once is quite the honor." The twins looked at each other and smiled before turning their attention back on Erchirion.

"Good eve to you as well, the blessed Eru Ilúvatar has watched over us on our way here. Most who wish to make a true acquaintanceship with us give us their name." Erchirion's face turned bright red and snickering could be heard from the riders within earshot. Erchirion stuttered out his own introduction.

"I-I am Prince Er-Erchirion of Dol A-Amroth." With each stuttered vowel his face burned brighter.

"We are Elladan and Elrohir, sons of Elrond Peredhel, and we have come to ensure that your travels beyond Rohan go in the light." The one who spoke did so with clarity like a bell resounding from a tower, commanding attention from all around him. The brother who had not spoken stepped away from the other and approached Lothíriel. If she had not been paying attention to him, she would have thought the ground beneath him moved rather than he walked, because it was so seamless, it was less like walking and more like gliding. He took a seat before speaking softly.

"Am I correct in assuming that you are Princess Lothíriel?" Not trusting her voice and not wanting to suffer similar embarrassment as her brother, Lothíriel nodded, biting her lower lip.

"_Êl síla erin lû e-govaned vîn_." He smiled encouragingly at her and she relaxed slightly before introducing herself properly.

"_Im Aranel Lothíriel e Dol Amroth_." His smile widened and he nodded as a light laugh escaped his lips.

"_Mae g'ovannen hiril vuin, im Elladan e Imladris_." He took her hand gently before switching back to the common tongue. "You speak Sindarin well for someone who has not been tutored by an elf." Lothíriel smiled at the praise and saw Erchirion and Elrohir approaching the fire.

"I learned the language from my brother's studies. Many of the poems and songs he translates for me are beautiful in their native tongue." From the corner of her eye she saw Erchirion stand straighter than before while his face softened. Both elves turned their attention to her brother and looked at him carefully.

"We hope you will be willing to recite some of them for us during the long ride back to Imladris. And our libraries are stocked full with everything from detailed histories to limericks." Elrohir's voice was kind and joyful as he spoke to Erchirion. "When we arrive, I would love to give you a tour." Erchirion's smile was larger than she had seen since she was a child and their father had told Erchirion he could order any books he would like from Minas Tirith's vast libraries.

"I would be grateful and honored, my lord." He stood and beckoned Elrohir warmly. "Would you like to see some of the volumes I brought with me?" The elf nodded and followed Erchirion to the tent. Lothíriel smiled at Elladan.

"I have a feeling my brother has just found a friend in yours."

Elladan nodded. "He has always enjoyed pursuing the stories and histories of this world. I prefer the arts myself. Do you play any instruments?" He looked at her hopefully. Lothíriel solemnly shook her head.

"I sing sometimes, but I doubt it is to the quality of my mother. My father used to tell me of how she would play her harp and sing." She gazed into the fire before adding, "He said it was a marvel to behold." Elladan gazed at the stars, the twinkling lights reflecting in his dark eyes.

"My mother, the Lady Celebrían, is gone as well. She sailed to the Grey Havens five hundred years ago. While I was growing up she would sing throughout the entire day bringing music into our home from sunrise to sunset and thereafter. After she left us the whole of Imladris seemed so quiet, as if the idea of music after her departure was absurd. It was because of this that I decided to learn how to play myself." He turned his face back towards Lothíriel's. "I would be honored if you ever found the time to sing for me." A small smile crept onto his face before he stood. "I must prepare my tent and no doubt you are tired from your day's ride, so I will say only this, _abarad ollo vae_."

As soon as he left, Lothíriel felt as tired as he had insisted she was. Yawning, she made her way towards the tent. Inside both her brother and Elrohir stood hunched over an open book, quietly analyzing whatever was being described. She ignored them and pulled the hanging fabric that acted as a curtain before dressing herself into her nightgown. Only moments after covering herself in the heavy fur blanket she fell into a deep and peaceful slumber, dreaming of a golden-haired elf singing in the dawn light.

* * *

Lothíriel sat on her bed roll and stared at the wall of her tent that was in the direction of the lonely silent town known as Tharbad. It had been abandoned for nearly a century. The only inhabitants that visited now besides the odd group of travelers were animals. Taking a deep breath she pulled her cloak around her body and began to pull her boots on. Finally, dressed in her warmest clothes, she exited her tent. The morning sun was just peaking over the plains. Its hue made both the sky and river shine with a red-golden light. The grass in front of her was covered in frost that seemed to be diamonds wherever the sun's rays touched. The puff of air that escaped her lips with each breath proved that the cold was not her imagination. Tugging the cloak tighter around her, she turned her attention back towards the camp that was just waking up.

The entire party from Dol Amroth sat around a single large bonfire. The column of smoke trailed up towards the sky, the only interruption to the morning's golden dawn. Lothíriel took a seat on a log that acted as a bench before the flames. As soon as she was seated, one of the guards came towards her with a bowl of porridge. The smell of cinnamon wafted enticingly up from it. With an unexpectedly ravenous hunger, she began to eat the food before her.

"Good morning, _hiril vuin_." Elladan approached her, smiling kindly. "I hope you are warm enough." Lothíriel placed the now empty bowl onto the ground before standing and returning the greeting.

"Good morning to you as well. I am rather surprised that it is so cold when it is only the middle of autumn. I can hardly imagine how it could get any colder each day, and each day, it does. Do you normally travel during this kind of weather?" Elladan took a seat beside Lothíriel before smiling and nodding. He waited until she sat back down before answering.

"We travel whenever our services are required. I believe that after the first winter in Rivendell you will be used to the colder weather. By the time you return to your homeland, the summers may even feel too hot, though the sea will most likely keep the temperatures from becoming too sweltering. But of course that is the benefit of living near to the sea, I suppose."

Lothíriel laughed. "I suppose you're right. Whenever the days in Dol Amroth were too warm, I would go and wade in the tide pools where the cool sea water would rush over my feet and ankles." A cold wind picked up for a few moments. Lothíriel scooted closer to the fire, letting it heat her fingers. "How much farther is it to Rivendell?"

"Once we've passed the ford it will be about three weeks of travel. We should arrive right before the beginning of winter. But that depends entirely on when we can cross the river. That will not be today I think." He turned his face towards the water that was so still, Lothíriel would have thought the river was frozen if not for the occasional ripple from a fish underneath.

"Why do we have to wait to cross?" Lothíriel looked around until she caught sight of where the horses were picketed. "Do the horses have to recover?"

"Well, there is that." Elladan affirmed. "But there is another reason. Do you remember when it rained a couple of days ago?" He waited for Lothíriel to nod before continuing. "That rain raised the levels of the river. Although it looks still and safe, it is a treacherous way to travel. I would have it recede somewhat before attempting to cross." He returned his gaze to river, studying it with a knowing eye. "If I had planned this trip, I would have had you come in the summer, when the river is at it's lowest, or else I would have you travel by ship up the Greyflood." He smiled slightly. "But, you are here now, so Elrohir and I will do everything in our power to see that your way is surefooted."

Lothíriel sat with Elladan for a few moments in silence before he was called away by his brother to scout the surrounding area. She wasn't surprised the elves had opted for the job. She had been told that she walked so quietly that she could have been mistaken for a breeze if she wasn't seen. But both Elladan and Elrohir put her stealthiness to shame. Their abilities to move without being noticed was extraordinary. She guessed that they could be standing in front of someone and they wouldn't be seen. But stealth wasn't the only accomplishment they had. They could hear and see things far beyond that of anyone Lothíriel had ever met before. Because of them, the company had avoided what would have been a fairly unpleasant encounter with a pack of sleeping wolves. Everything they did provided more proof that the Firstborn were closer to being at one with the earth and sky around them.

Lothíriel stood and looked towards the buildings. She saw that five guards began to trail after her when they noticed she was leaving the camp. It didn't take very long to arrive at the gates of the town. For a place that hadn't been inhabited for almost a century, it seemed as if the years hadn't touched it. Lothíriel recognized the work of Númenor in the craftsmanship and stone work of the buildings themselves. This place was designed to stay standing tall and proud for several ages that had yet to pass. She moved silently through abandoned alleyways and streets. The guards that followed her stayed several paces away, giving her the illusion of privacy, when in reality, they would be close enough to keep her safe if she fell into another vision.

As she stepped out onto an open street, she saw a doe and her fawn eating together in what had once been a cobbled market, but was now a grassy lane. She stood completely still and stared. The doe lifted its face from the grass and gazed towards the princess. It's ears stood straight up, listening for any threats while the fawn continued with its meal. The light surrounding them was beautiful and in that quiet moment Lothíriel felt truly at peace. Behind her, she knew the guards would be approaching and had no doubt they would try and kill both animals for food. Not wanting that to happen, she went closer and opened her mouth. "Go!" The words, which were nothing more than a whisper, could have been a shout in the silence that surrounded her. The doe continued to stare at her and in the corner of her eye, Lothíriel could catch the glint of the sun reflecting off the armor of one of the Swan-Knights as he approached. Lothíriel bent down and took a few scattered pebbles. Desperately, she threw them to the ground besides the fawn. The first stone didn't make it as far as she would have liked, but it met another stone rather than grass. A sharp crack resounded throughout the streets and both animals turned and ran.

By the time her guards joined her, the doe had already disappeared from view behind one of the buildings. "What was that sound, my lady?" The guard's voice was a mixture of concern and slight impatience.

"I was just throwing stones." She held her hand out with the remaining rocks, putting on her most innocent of faces. She was glad her brother was not among them, for he always knew when she was hiding something. The guard glanced around before paying attention to Lothíriel once again.

"This place is not one for children, my lady. The silence speaks of the dead. Come away from this eerie place and sit by a fire where it is warm and there is life aplenty." He smiled invitingly to her. She did not want to leave, but she knew that if she continued through the town there would be a chance of happening upon the doe and fawn again, and she would not risk their lives by her continued presence. She nodded and returned the smile before making her way back towards the camp.

* * *

It had been two days before Elladan and Elrohir agreed that the river would be safe to cross. The party prepared for their departure, anxious to be on the road once again. That was not the only reason they desired to be on their way, not only did they feel the presence of Tharbad, but they also desired to arrive in Rivendell before the first snow. Lothíriel aided in packing up her things from the tent while Erchirion packed the books and maps he and Elrohir had been using.

Within the hour, Lothíriel was atop Hazelfel and walking steadily towards the river. Like it had been for the past two days, the water was almost entirely still. As they stepped into the river, Elladan guided from the front, leading the whole party in a line with Elrohir in the rear. Lothíriel saw the shadow of the crumbling bridge, high above them. Pieces of stone as big as buildings lay in the water. As they passed them, Lothíriel turned to her brother who, like she had just been doing, was eyeing the bridge.

"What happened here?" Lothíriel's voice was quiet. She felt that it would have been disrespectful to this place to speak loudly. Erchirion shook his head in response. Elladan, who was directly in front of them spoke up.

"Tharbad was settled on the river Gwathló in the Second Age by explorers from Númenor. It was abandoned shortly after the war against Sauron and this area was largely ignored by both the elves and the Númenóreans after the destruction of Eregion and the forests. After the founding of Gondor and Arnor in the Second Age, year 3320, a great port was built to receive sea-going vessels. The ford was deepened and the massive fenlands above it was drained. Tharbad's new river-port was spanned by a bridge. The upkeep of the bridge was an enormous task and after the Great Plague of 1636 in the Third Age almost all of the inhabitants fled west. Included in that lot were the surviving Dúnedain. Gondor was devastated and traffic along the road through Tharbad declined considerably and from then onwards, the region fell into decay. As the years progressed, Tharbad was inhabited by mostly the people known as Dunlendings, but even they abandoned this land. Throughout the years of disuse the bridge began to crumble into it's current state. When the bridge was entirely impassable, the Dunlendings left for good."

Lothíriel stared in wonder at the bridge, imagining it whole. She pictured elves and knights riding across in a very stately fashion. She thought back to the town she had walked through and saw in her mind men and women going about their day in the mills and among the fishermen. She imagined the first stone that fell from the bridge and the despair the people felt at its decay. She wondered, if the bridge and the town would, or even could, be rebuilt again. By the time her focus returned to the movement of Hazelfel, they had nearly passed the river and were only minutes from the opposite shore. Looking ahead, she turned her thoughts from the past towards that of her future. A future where she had a new home in Rivendell. It would be only three weeks of travel and that future would be a reality.

**Translations:**

**Êl síla erin lû e-govaned vîn(A star shines on the hour of our meeting)**

**Im Aranel Lothíriel e Dol Amroth(I am Princess Lothíriel of Dol Amroth)**

**Mae g'ovannen hiril vuin, im Elladan e Imladris(Well met my lady, I'm Elladan of Imladris) **

**abarad ollo vae(until tomorrow sweet dreams)**

**hiril vuin(my lady)**


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter 9

Rivendell

Autumn, 3009

Lothíriel stared at Rivendell. She could hardly believe that they had finally arrived after such a lengthy journey from Dol Amroth. In the light of the dwindling sun the entire valley seemed to glow warmly. She studied the scene for a minute more before encouraging Hazelfal forward down the path. The air around them smelled of pine and oak and in the distance she could hear light music of harps and flutes. With each step the music grew louder and Lothíriel felt a sense of peace wash over her with the beat.

Eventually the party reached a stoney bridge. As they crossed it, Lothíriel saw two figures. One of them was a fine lord with long, dark hair. Around his head was a silver circlet that twinkled in the light. His robes were layered, each a deep shade of brown and orange, accenting the golden leaves still clinging to the trees around him. The other figure was a beautiful woman. Her hair was as dark as obsidian and her skin was as pale as moonlight. Someone in glinting silver armor stepped forward and took Hazelfal's reins so Lothíriel could dismount. As her feet touched the ground, the lord stepped forward.

"Welcome to Rivendell my lord and lady. I am Elrond and this is my daughter, Arwen Undómiel. We have been anticipating your arrival for quite some time." He smiled warmly at Lothíriel and took her hand. He led her over towards Arwen, who, like her father, smiled kindly at her before taking her hand from Elrond's grasp and guiding her up the stairs. Lothíriel turned her gaze towards her brother who was being greeted by Lord Elrond behind them.

After a few moments of silence, Arwen spoke. "You have been on the road for quite some time. I have no doubt that you are looking forward to sleeping in a room that is more private than a tent." Lothíriel nodded and looked up at the beautiful elf.

"I had heard from Elladan on the way here how beautiful Rivendell is. I am glad I will be able to spend my time living in such a place." They reached the top of the stairs and Lothíriel saw the gardens of Rivendell. There were such bright flowers and bushes that Lothíriel could have sworn they were frozen in time, clinging to the last breath of a summer that had ended long ago. She reached out and touched one of the leaves of a rose bush as they passed it. Exiting the gardens, they stepped through an archway that led to a room warmed by a large fireplace. Beside the fireplace was a long, wooden table that was carved with images of birds and bears and deer along the top and sides. On the walls hung beautiful tapestries that ranged in color. Some showed battles while others showed scenes of men and women embracing.

Arwen led her out of the dining hall and through a long hallway. Lothíriel stopped at a pedestal that had pieces of a broken blade laid out carefully. On the wall opposite of the pedestal was a mural. Its image depicted Isildur's victory over Sauron. Arwen turned her gaze and stared at the mural behind Lothíriel as well. "The bravery of Men is something that I have admired for a long time. The coming days are ones where the light will begin to diminish and there will be a great need for bravery among Men." She guided Lothíriel away from the mural and down the hall until they reached a door.

Lothíriel stared at the room for several seconds. Inside was a bed with a large white blanket embroidered with silver and gold patterns. The headboard was a tan wood, carved to look like snowflakes, suspended in their decent. At the foot of the bed stood a wooden chest that was adorned with silver. Past the bed was a fireplace built into the intersection of the two walls. Within the light of the fire stood a desk and chair. Like the dining table Lothíriel had passed earlier, there were beautiful carvings along the sides. On top of the surface of the desk lay, in a neat stack, blank sheets of paper with a quill and ink. The last thing she saw in the room was a large door that led out to a small balcony.

She stepped into the room and removed her cloak as the fire's heat warmed her chilled body. She took a seat on the chest and looked at Arwen. "It doesn't seem real, to finally be here after such a long journey." Arwen glided forward and took her hands within her own, the kind smile still on her face.

"Well, now you are here and you and I shall be very good friends, perhaps even like sisters. I hope that you will try and think of this place as your home for as long as you are with us." Lothíriel returned her smile and nodded. Arwen stood and made her way towards the open door. Before passing through, she turned back towards Lothíriel. "Are you hungry? It is past the time that we normally eat here, but I'm sure that Cook wouldn't mind fixing something for you."

"Actually, we ate on the road right before we arrived, so it's not necessary. Besides, I'd rather finish unpacking and go to sleep as soon as I'm able. I'd like to recover from this journey as soon as possible." Lothíriel touched the bed to her side. She stood as she heard footsteps approaching. After only a few moments, two men carried several of Lothíriel's bags through the door and placed them neatly close to the fire and bowed before exiting.

"Well," Arwen stepped through the opening of the door, "your maid should be here soon, so I will leave you for the time being and we will become better acquainted once you have rested from your travels." She bid her final good night before closing the door softly and walking back through the halls. Lothíriel looked at her bags for a few moments before finally opening the largest one and began removing the dresses. She shook them out before folding them into place within the chest. She was well into the second bag that held her night-clothes and undergarments when a soft knock sounded at the door before it was opened. A tall woman with light brown hair pinned up entered the room with a small smile in place. She bowed before Lothíriel.

"My lady, I am Arvellon. I will serve as both your aid as well as your tutor for the time you are with us." She straightened before gazing knowingly into Lothíriel's eyes. "I served as Lady Arwen's tutor for several years when she was still a child. I hope you will accept me as a capable teacher during your stay in Imladris. I will teach you everything that you will need to know as a noble lady. The only thing I will not teach you is how to control your sight, as that is Lord Elrond's area."

Lothíriel nodded, "Thank you for your service. I look forward to learning from you." She smiled a bit longer before turning back to continue unpacking, the only difference was that this time Arvellon worked beside her, placing some of the smaller items out on top of the desk. They worked in silence until, finally, everything was unpacked. Making sure nothing was left to put away, Arvellon led Lothíriel out of her chamber towards a large pool of steaming water. Arvellon had carried not only the soaps that were required for Lothíriel to bathe but her night clothes as well. She placed them down in a neatly folded pile before she removed Lothíriel's cloak from her shoulders and helped her out of her dusty clothes from the days of riding.

Lothíriel stepped into the water and felt the pleasant sensation of heat soaking into her. As she sunk deeper into the pool she noticed the scent of roses and jasmine rising from the steam. Her sore muscles relaxed as she laid her head back, allowing the water to cover her hair. For minutes she laid back and allowed the water to guide her to restfulness before sitting back up and moving towards the edge of the pool so Arvellon could use the soap she had brought. She must have sensed Lothíriel's weariness because she simply sang a poem softly until she had finished scrubbing the long black hair. If not for her desire to sleep, Lothíriel might have stayed in the pool for hours more. After rinsing her hair, she stepped up and allowed Arvellon to dress her in the nightgown and place the cloak around her again before stepping out into the hall and making her way to her room. She needed to rest so that she would be ready for whatever it was Elrond was going to teach her.

* * *

Lothíriel stared into the deep pool within the gardens as she waited for Elrond to join her. She had been in Rivendell for nearly a week and had fully enjoyed the pleasures of home as well as the company of the elves who had quickly befriended her. Erchirion had requested a room close to the library and Elrond had been more than happy to make him comfortable wherever he wished. Elladan and Elrohir hadn't stayed for more than a day before deciding to return to the north to hunt anything that belonged to the darkness. She had grown very close to Arwen and through her she had met a ranger named Aragorn. The two had shared many looks that Lothíriel had seen on Elphir and Meira's faces several times. Her musings were interrupted by a deep, smooth voice.

"I see that you have arrived before me. I am glad to see that you are punctual." He nodded cordially to Lothíriel as she rose. No longer was she dressed as a young boy for riding, but in a deep blue dress with thin purple roses embellished along it. The day was chilled but thanks to the mountains surrounding Imladris, the winds never sped faster than a quiet breeze.

"I was anxious to begin and was happy to hear you were ready to receive me at last." She smiled before coming to his side as they walked down one of the garden paths. "I wondered why you waited this long, though I must admit, I enjoyed being able to rest after such a tedious journey."

"As was my intent." He stopped for a moment and gazed towards a single dragonfly as it flew through the air. Turning his face to hers, Lothíriel could see in his gaze both friendliness and command. "How old are you now princess?"

"I turned eleven during the beginning of the trip, I will be twelve come the next fall." Lothíriel watched Elrond nod to himself.

"So your gift presented itself when you were ten years old?" Lothíriel nodded her affirmation before the pair began their stroll down the path again. "What do you remember about that day before the vision came upon you?"

"I woke up later than normal and was called to join my brothers on the beach. I had skipped breakfast that morning because my stomach had been hurting during the dark hours of the morning and I didn't want to upset it even further. I got dressed and began to make my way through the corridors and fell upon the vision." She turned her thoughts back to the panic she had seen on her father and brothers' faces when they had seen her crumpled on the floor.

"Has your stomach hurt any other times before having a vision?" Elrond's eyes studied Lothíriel's face as she thought.

"Now that you mention it, I would feel a strange pang that was similar to hunger, though I never wanted food at the moment. But it would happen hours before a vision came so I never thought much about it. When I told Amrothos about my stomach pains, he always told me I was likely suffering from indigestion." After mentioning Amrothos, Lothíriel felt a sting of homesickness before being called back to attention by Elrond's words.

"It was not indigestion. Your body was reacting to the fact you had already received the vision within you." Lothíriel stopped in surprise and stared at Elrond's face. He smiled knowingly at her before continuing, "This is good. It means that you have the opportunity to experience your visions without the possibility of self harm." Lothíriel could still feel the surprise running through her, but it no longer froze her to where she was standing. She began taking steps in silence as she imagined being able to control the visions. Finally, after several mute minutes, she asked the question she had weighing on her mind.

"Does that mean I'll be able to keep from feeling the pain whenever something painful happens within the vision?" Elrond shook his head, the smile disappearing from his mouth.

"Pain is something you will have to overcome yourself. I have never experienced pain during a vision. The fact that you do may mean one of two things. You are either too close to whoever you are experiencing your vision through, or it is simply because the blood that runs through your veins is that of a human." Lothíriel sighed in resignation at Elrond's words. He placed a gentle hand on her shoulder. "You may not be able to control all the aspects of your visions, but I will do my very best to teach you how to live with them without letting them effect your daily life as much as it has." Elrond led Lothíriel off the path and into a place where three tall trees stood over a small stream. He knelt by the stream and dipped his fingers in. As the cold water rushed past his fingers he looked back up.

"Time is much like this stream. It continues on its way no matter what comes along. However, while it is certain that time will go on, and the future is always approaching, the future is dictated by both the past and the present actions of us and everyone around us." He picked up a large stone and handed it to Lothíriel. "If you were to place that stone anywhere in the stream, would it stop the stream from running? Try, and see what happens." Lothíriel knelt beside him and as soon as the stone was set, the water shifted and continued along its path while going around the stone instead of through it. "The stream had no way of knowing that the stone was coming, but that is something that has forever shaped its future." Elrond stood and offered his hand to Lothíriel on the ground. "The world is like this. It will continue going forward no matter what is put in front of it. You and I have the ability to see what stones are coming and are able to help those who must prepare for its arrival."

Lothíriel nodded as she continued to watch the stream. "But what does this have to do with being able to stay awake during my visions?"

"Much like how time and the stream move forward without a care, so must you gaze upon the future. You are not able to stop the stone's decent, but unless in the moment you see it you are a passive observer, you will wear yourself out. Your body fights with it as soon as it enters and this is why you also fall unconscious." Elrond turned from Lothíriel and stepped up to one of the trees. The roots had grown into the shape of a gnarly chair. "You will come here each morning and practice becoming a passive observer. While you do so, you will also practice your breathing."

Lothíriel's eyebrows furrowed and her voice was indignant. "I know how to breathe."

Elrond's eyes looked at her sharply. "In the future you will not always have this place, let alone a garden, to concentrate. By practicing your breathing, you will have a place in your mind that will always aid you as this place will." Lothíriel's mouth shut as she felt her face heat up. "Now," his voice was once again gentle, "come have a seat and close your eyes." Lothíriel followed his direction in silence. "I want you to take a slow, deep breath before letting it out just as slowly. Just as the water is washing over the land, so should your breath wash over you." Lothíriel took several deep breaths and with each one, her body began to relax. After some time Elrond directed her to open her eyes.

She smiled up at him. "It's amazing!" All around her the sounds of squirrels chittering to each other up in the trees was more apparent and the sound of quietly moving water hung in the air. Elrond nodded in agreement before returning the smile. He provided his hand to help Lothíriel up and they made their way out of the garden where Arvellon stood waiting.


	10. Chapter 10

Chapter 10

_December 14th, 3009, Rivendell _

_Dear Father, _

_I am happy to say that Erchirion and I have made it safely to Rivendell and have found it to be quite the lovely home. I waited a little while to pen this letter until we're settled, and I know Erchirion has written as well._

_ This first letter will travel back to you the on the same route that Erchirion and I took to get here, but Lord Elrond has come up with a plan to help make the journey for the messengers less tedious. The Greyflood, that flows from Rivendell, meets the sea at Lond Daer. The port is still able to take a sea going ship. He suggests every few months a messenger from Rivendell could sail down the river and meet a ship from Dol Amroth waiting at the port. Lord Elrond feels this will be much more convenient for us to pass correspondence and you will get news more regularly._

_Our journey was a great success and I have made a friend of King Théoden's niece, Éowyn. I also got to know her brother, Éomer, as he was escorting us up until we reached Edoras. Rohan's beautiful countryside has no rival as it is as vast as the sea, only instead of shades of blue and grey they are shades of yellow and green. While we were among the Rohirrim I picked up a few tricks on caring for Hazelfal. A strange thing happened while we were in Edoras. I discovered that I had seen Éomer in one of my visions. I would have told him but I never got the chance. We continued onwards the day after and met with Lord Elrond's two sons, Elladan and Elrohir. They are both Rangers of the North. That title would have sent me running for the hills if I hadn't met them for they are as kind and gentle with those under their protection as much equal to how they are swift and ruthless to those who serve the darkness._

_When we arrived in Rivendell I met not only Lord Elrond but also his daughter, Lady Arwen. She is such a beauty within and without that anything I write will fall short on describing it. I will say only this she is a sweet and warm lady who has, with every opportunity, worked to make me feel at home here. While I am here I am under both her tutelage as well as that of my maid, Arvellon. Arvellon is fairly strict when giving instruction, but fair. While she is very quick to tell me when I have not done something correctly, she is just as quick to praise me when I have. Lord Elrond has been aiding me in controlling my visions. At first I thought his lessons were just a silly ritual, but now that I have been training with him for several days, I feel a relaxation embrace me as soon as we start. I have even taken to using some of the things I've learned when Erchirion irritates me overmuch._

_I still miss all of you back home and wonder what you could be doing everyday. Are Elphir and Meira married yet? How is Amrothos' training with Master Hëmond proceeding? Have the fishermen and tradesmen arrived to sell their goods yet? Things here are very quiet that every once in a while I miss the noise of Dol Amroth whenever the merchants come to trade. Another thing I miss is the sea. I miss the sound and smell of it. In the valley there are freshwater rivers and waterfalls, and while the sound of water crashing downwards is very spectacular, it isn't like the crash of ocean surf meeting with the sandy shore. _

_I must continue with my studies here now, so I will finish and await your response. I love you Father and miss you greatly. _

_Ever your daughter,_

_Lothíriel_

* * *

_March 24th, 3010, Dol Amroth _

_Dear Lothíriel,_

_I was quite happy when I received your letter, and one from Erchirion as well. I agree with Lord Elrond's plans to carry our letters via ship. As for Elphir and Meira, they decided to marry this summer. I look forward to the date. It is somewhat sad that you'll miss the ceremony, but with all that's happened, I still think it is best that you remain in Rivendell for the time being. I miss you as well and look forward to when Lord Elrond is confident enough for you to return to us. _

_Amrothos has continued studying the art of healing under Master Hëmond and is progressing quickly as he has a natural talent for the work. Mostly he has been treating the common ills of the people as well as sprained muscles. Everyone in Dol Amroth loves and admires him quite a bit and if he weren't wrapped up in his studies, I believe he would never leave the arms of the women so ready to embrace him._

_Things in Gondor have been anything but quiet. There has been unrest in the East and whispers of a shadow growing there. Your uncle has summoned me to Minas Tirith this autumn, after Elphir's wedding, to provide counsel on some of these matters. I can only pray that this shadow isn't as terrible as gossip would have me believe. Not only have there been shadows growing elsewhere, we have begun to have trouble with the odd corsair who steals from the incoming ships. They are a clever lot, but certainly no match for the defenses of Dol Amroth. They have kept themselves from the bay for now but if their numbers grow, I fear they will grow more bold. As a precaution to this, Faramir came up with an idea to guard the port. I have begun construction on a great sea gate. It will be made of steel and pulled closed by a set of links. When open it will only be seen on the sides and will seem like a giant net. _

_How are the rest of your studies going? What are the things you have learned thus far? I look forward to your next letter, though I expect that if I am in Minas Tirith long, I won't get the chance to read it until my return. Your uncle is a very demanding man and as such, I doubt I will have time to read, let along pen a reply while I'm there._

_I wish you the very best with your studies. I am proud of you and I love you._

_Love,_

_Father_

* * *

_October 8th, 3010, Rivendell _

_Dear Father, _

_What a busy life I lead these days! My days are so full that the times fly by and I can hardly believe it's been more than a year since I set out for Rivendell. Everyday I start the day with my breathing exercises. Right after breakfast Arvellon begins the daily lessons. In the mornings we focus on the different languages of Middle Earth, then go straight into my riding lessons. After riding for a few hours, we enjoy our noon meal. The food here is rapturous! I never would have thought of cooking things the way the Elves have, though, admittedly they have had more time to consider new recipes than I have. _

_Directly after the meal I go for a walk in the garden with one of the elves. Whenever Aragorn, Elladan or Elrohir are here they help me work on my archery. I don't have the gift for it, but we all make fun of the activity. After the break following the noon meal, Arvellon begins to go through history and literature with me. Sometimes, if I finish my lessons before supper, I go to spend time with Erchirion up in the library. I have never seen Erchirion so happy and focused before. The elves' collection of books is vast, bigger than our own library in Dol Amroth. _

_How was the wedding between Elphir and Meira? I'm happy to hear that Amrothos is doing well with his studies to become a healer. Have you returned from Minas Tirith yet? How did your visit with Uncle go? I have to go, Arvellon is summoning me for supper. I love you Father._

_Love,_

_Lothíriel_

* * *

_January 12, 3011, Dol Amroth _

_Dear Lothíriel,_

_I have just returned from Minas Tirith to find your letter. I am glad to hear that you and your brother are enjoying your time spent in the company of Lord Elrond and the other Elves in Rivendell. Have you had any other visions since you've been there? Has the instructions and your breathing helped you in any way with them. I am rather anxious for you to master your gift as much as possible. _

_Life in Dol Amroth flows by much like the sea. The sea gate's construction is still underway but progress is being made. Before the end of this year I believe it will be completed, so long as all goes well. Elphir and Meira were married the night of the full moon and would not be parted from each other's company for nearly a month. They only came out for meals mostly, if they didn't order the meals to their rooms. Amrothos is nearly finished with his apprenticeship under Master Hëmond and has begun to speak of moving to Minas Tirith for a time to work with the healers there. After seeing the current state of Minas Tirith myself I wonder if that is a wise decision, but in the end, I have decided to let him choose where he wishes to hone his craft._

_Minas Tirith is growing more solemn and in the distance to the East stands a great shadow. It is truly intimidating to see, and I do not envy your uncle in his position, nor his view. It seems that your uncle wishes to begin fighting to free Osgiliath from the hold of our enemies. I am not very optimistic about the battles that are sure to ensue, but it is possible if the men would be led by your cousin Boromir. He has grown so much since I had seen him last and is becoming a man among men. Faramir will aid his brother in battle by leading his rangers from the shadows. With their efforts joined I can only hope that they are successful._

_You are in my thoughts always. Please wish your brother well for me and give Lord Elrond my regards._

_Your Father,_

_Imrahil_

* * *

_June 23rd, 3011, Rivendell _

_Dear Father,_

_The summers in Rivendell are quiet and peaceful. The afternoons are warm, but not hot like Dol Amroth. Erchirion has taken to join me during my riding lessons, though sometimes he'll bring one of his books with him and find a tree to lean on and I'll have to return without him. My lessons with Arvellon are going well, and Lord Elrond says I am beginning to make real progress in clearing my mind during my morning breathing exercises. I have received a vision and I was able to remain awake during the beginning. _

_In the most current vision I saw was that of Éomer again. I know this because of his unique helmet. The only difference I noticed was that it was during the night and he was on a different horse during the attack. He wasn't wounded in this one either, so I didn't feel any pain from it. Afterwards it was suddenly day and they raced across the plains and the vision ended with someone behind them calling out to them. The voice that called them seemed familiar, but like so very often, I couldn't place it. Sometimes I wonder why I have these visions when I don't even know what is really going on._

_I have been working ceaselessly to master each of the fields of study presented to me. Recently I grew too tall for my normal dresses, so my studies were put on hold while all the she-elves came and helped me to sew my next gowns. Much like their movements, their skill with the needle seems effortless and graceful. With their help I had ten new dresses of varying color within a week. Tomorrow, Arvellon and Arwen are going to show me how to run a household as a princess ought to._

_For now, it is late and I must rest before tomorrow. I love you and miss you Father._

_Ever,_

_Lothíriel_

* * *

_September 1st, 3011, Dol Amroth _

_Dear Lothíriel,_

_Happy birthday my darling daughter. I cannot believe that it has already been thirteen years since you were born. Your mother and I were overjoyed when you came out strong and beautiful. After your mother died, I did not think I would be able to handle the grief, but then one day, you snuck into my solar and pulled me from the darkness that was enveloping me. I don't think I could have ever escaped without you. You are so very precious to me. _

_I am glad to hear that your studies are going well and you are enjoying your time among the elves and rangers who come through Rivendell. Amrothos has finished making the decision to take his talents to Minas Tirith for the time-being. It will be hard for me to see another of my children leave me along in Dol Amroth. Elphir will stay of course, unless there is war. In that case, your Uncle Denethor will most likely not hesitate calling such an skilled warrior to the front lines._

_War is something I feel is approaching like a slowly spreading disease. We may delay it for a while, but it will inevitably happen. The only thing we can do is prepare for the worst. Speaking of preparations, the sea gate is nearly completed and soon we will begin working on building more granaries in case of a siege._

_I apologize. This is not something you ought to be worried of when you have so much to focus on already. I long to hear progress of your mastery over the sight. I wish I could summon you home this very moment, but I know I must wait for word from Lord Elrond on this matter._

_Know that I miss you and you are always in my thoughts. Happy birthday, Lothig._

_Forever thinking of you,_

_Father_

* * *

_February 18th, 3012, Rivendell _

_Dear Father,_

_Lord Elrond had a visitor in Rivendell recently. His mother by law, the Lady Galadriel. She is so fair and wonderful that I understand why each of my histories call her the Lady of Light. She has a small knack for visions. Not as much as Lord Elrond, but she knows a few tricks. Most recently she taught me something new! Now, if I concentrate well enough without letting my mind become clouded with thoughts of the present or my own desires for the future, I can spy into a sliver of a person's future. It isn't quite as clear as my previous visions, for I mostly feel things than see them like before. It helps if I look into a bowl of clear water, but the image is still as if I'm looking at someone through a thick, muddled glass. She says that if I were to join her in Lothlórien, she has something she calls the mirror that shows the viewer whatever it is they need to see. _

_Lady Arwen will be returning to Lothlórien with Lady Galadriel to visit with her in the Golden Wood. When I heard this, I was saddened at the loss of a friend, but another elf named Glorfindel spoke to me and promised me that if I can keep my head held high he will teach me to play the harp. All thoughts of travel ceased to exist from my mind at that point. Glorfindel (for he insists I never call him Lord) likes to play in the evening just as the moon is rising so we don't get to play together for very long, but I will remain diligent. Just think, Father, by the time I return to you, perhaps I will be able to sing and play the harp just as Mother did._

_I must go for Lady Arwen will be departing very soon and I wish to say goodbye before it is too late._

_Love,_

_Lothíriel_

* * *

_June 4th, 3012, Dol Amroth _

_Dearest Lothíriel,_

_I anticipate the day I am able to hear your musical skills once again. I am sure this Glorfindel fellow is a kind and generous man to offer his time teaching you. It is a gift that I'm sure many beyond Dol Amroth will thank him for one day. I am intrigued by what Lady Galadriel has taught you. I wonder at how useful it will be in aiding your current abilities, though I'm sure time will tell in that regard._

_I am gladdened to hear you're training goes well. I am intrigued by this mirror in Lothlórien, but I suppose that is not a strange thing among the race of Men. We are often either intrigued of anything outside of our typical realm of possibilities. Change is something accept so long as it makes sense to us, sometimes, for certain people, that isn't enough._

_In Dol Amroth, the sea gate has been completed and has successfully routed a small group of corsairs. The fact that we were successful in our first attempt to drive off an enemy from the cove has helped the people's faith in our abilities to protect them. This has also restored my own faith in Dol Amroth being a safe place for you to return to in the days to come. _

_As always, tell me of your progress through your studies and training. Which are your favorite subjects? How is your brother? I miss you dearly and await your next letter with anticipation._

_Yours,_

_Father_

* * *

_December 30th, 3013, Rivendell _

_Dear Father,_

_This is my fourth winter in the North and I must say that I'm surprised at myself for not mentioning how extraordinarily fun snow is. Perhaps it was because each time it snowed here before I longed for home so greatly that I wanted to focus on the things that would help me to come back to Dol Amroth. _

_A fresh coat of white covers every surface not protected by a roof. The snow falls from the sky like feathers, shifting with the slightest breeze until they finally meet the ground. Erchirion joined me in the courtyard yesterday to play in the snow. I could tell that he'd rather be up in his tower where he would be warm, but he indulged me. Several other elves, including Glorfindel who has been quite my companion as of late, followed us, and some of them joined in on our games. After enjoying the snow together, we all sat together beside the fireplace in the dining hall and warmed ourselves with tea while some of the elves recited different poems and even Erchirion joined in and recounted a lengthly epic entirely in Sindarin. It was truly something beautiful and among the elves, I don't think there was a single dry eye._

_My skills with the harp are improving each day. Glorfindel has promised to carve my own harp. It should be ready by the spring. My language skills are improving. I doubt I'll ever have to use it, but my favorite language, and somehow the hardest one for me to learn, is Rohirric. Besides my language studies, I have spent time adding length to my dresses, as I am growing again. Soon, I will begin my riding lesson for today. I hope all is well in Dol Amroth as well as Amrothos in Minas Tirith. I love you and miss you Father._

_Your daughter,_

_Lothíriel_

* * *

_March 2nd, 3013, Dol Amroth _

_Dear Lothíriel,_

_I cannot write much at the moment as I will very soon be departing for Minas Tirith once again and I wish to catch the ship. Hearing that you are learning, and excelling in your studies makes me truly proud. I am glad to hear that you have been taking time to enjoy the wonders of where you are. You have always been a clever and curious. The fact that you are among others who can nurture your creativity along with it helps me to feel that I made the right decision in sending you North._

_While I am in Minas Tirith I will give Amrothos your tidings. Elphir and Meira send their love to both you and Erchirion. Please continue to take care of yourself and know that you are loved and missed greatly._

_Yours,_

_Father_

* * *

_July 27th, 3013, Rivendell _

_Dear Father,_

_I am writing to you from bed this time. I seem to have fallen ill from spending too much time in the heat. Lord Elrond has told me that he is confident that nothing is truly wrong with me except that I should rest. He canceled all my remaining lessons for the next couple of days and Erchirion left his library to sit with me. He read to me and we spoke about Dol Amroth and all of Gondor. He agrees with your idea of building the sea gate, and we began to think of names for it. We came up with Beleg Gwí since you mentioned that the links make the gate look like a chain net. Glorfindel joined me when Erchirion left and played music for me. Each of the elves have been so kind to visit me, even if it was simply to wish me well._

_I must end my letter here as Arvellon has brought a light supper for me to eat and then I need to rest. I hope Amrothos is doing well in Minas Tirith and that your business there went smoothly. I love you and please pass on my and Erchirion's love to everyone there._

_Ever,_

_Lothíriel_

* * *

_January 3rd, 3014, Dol Amroth _

_Dear Lothíriel,_

_I hope that you are in better health with the arrival of this letter. I worry over you each day that passes. I want you to be happy and healthy throughout the whole of your life. I told Elphir your idea for the sea gate's name and he liked it as well. From this point on, it shall be known as Beleg Gwî. _

_Recently we found that Meira has been with child for a short time. We are all excited for her and Elphir. Perhaps your vision will become reality soon. We have also heard from Amrothos in Minas Tirith. He and your uncle seem to get along fairly well. It is not something I am surprised over as Amrothos is much like my late sister, Finduilas, in character. It is also because of that reason that I worry over him while the shadow grows in the East. As I have mentioned in the past Minas Tirith is close enough for the shadow to be seen on a clear day and its presence is ultimately what ended your Aunt's life. But, unlike Finduilas, your brother has been keeping himself so busy; he seems to hardly have time to focus on the shadow._

_We just finished celebrating Yule and Meira found something in the market that she wishes you to have as your gift. I apologize that it is late, but she and Elphir send their love and well wishes for another fine year to you and your brother. I miss you dearly daughter and pray for your success._

_With love,_

_Father_

* * *

_May 20th, 3014, Rivendell _

_Dear Father,_

_Thank you for your concern over my health. I am happy to report that I am in better health now and have been enjoying many days outside in the warm weather as of late. I received the pearl pendant that Meira sent. Please give her my thanks. It is absolutely lovely! I am glad to hear that a baby is on the the way. I wonder if it is indeed the same baby that I saw in my vision all those years ago. I suppose we'll have to wait and find out won't we? I'm also glad to hear that Amrothos enjoys the city as well as Uncle's company. I found that the White City was a marvel to behold, but I think I wouldn't ever choose it over Dol Amroth._

_Yesterday I went out riding with Elladan who has been visiting more often than usual. We spent the entire day together, much to my delight. After a while I showed him the harp that Glorfindel had finished. Elladan was very pleased with my performance, stating that it was very like his mother's when she was still in Rivendell. Coming from him, that is mighty praise indeed!_

_On days where rain is inevitable, I've been joining Erchirion in the library. I've been reading some lovely stories of elves from the first age. Also, hidden among some of the more neglected tomes, laid a book of Rohirric stories. After asking Arvellon about them she made it clear that it is rare to find written stories from Rohan as most of them are shared orally. It is a rather large book and I have decided to take it with me wherever I go. I've been spending most of my time in the gardens reading it and have found the stories to be quite marvelous. There is something about how the stories are told that draws me in to them._

_I am going to be working on some new dresses later today and Arvellon is beckoning me to come pick my fabric. I love you and wish all the best to Meira during these next few months. I look forward to hearing about my future niece or nephew!_

_Love,_

_Lothíriel_

* * *

_October 15th, 3014, Dol Amroth _

_Dear Lothíriel,_

_Unfortunately, I must write to you with sad tidings. Meira lost the child before its birth shortly before your letter arrived. As such, she has fallen into a deep sadness. Master Hëmond examined her thoroughly and has concluded that she had been putting too much stress on her body. He has declared that the next time she comes to be with child, she must immediately stay in bed as much as possible as her disposition will be a fairly delicate one. _

_Meira blames herself for the loss of the child. Elphir tries his best to remain optimistic about the future, recalling your vision, but it is still difficult in light of the recent onset of grief. We can only pray that Meira and Elphir will be able to fight their grief and return to how joyful they were prior to this tragedy, though I don't expect that for some time._

_In other matters, I looked back in some of your letters and found that you have taken a special interest in Rohan, from the language to their stories. What is it that inspired such interest in the country? Unfortunately your Uncle has not seemed to keep very consistent contact with King Théoden and as such I doubt it would be wise for you to travel back through Rohan when you return. I also think that Rohan isn't very safe as I have heard of an increase of attacks from both the savages known as Dunlendings and Orcs._

_The shadows are growing and soon I think I will require you to return to Dol Amroth, whether you have concluded your studies or not. Please speak to Lord Elrond on this issue on my behalf. I'm sure we can work something out. I love you and want you home where I know you will be safe in Dol Amroth. You are always in my thoughts._

_Yours,_

_Father_

* * *

_March 13th, 3015, Rivendell _

_Dear Father,_

_Hearing the news of Elphir and Meira was truly tragic. Erchirion and I both mourned for their loss for several days and prayed for their sadness to abate quickly. As for helping both of them to remain optimistic, I remember what I saw in my vision as clearly as if I had just experienced it. I truly think that soon they will forget their grief and be able to focus on the future in a positive way._

_I spoke to Lord Elrond, just as you requested, and he seems to agree that it would be best for me to return to Dol Amroth in some time. He feels that I will most likely be well enough onto my way of mastering the techniques he has taught me within the next year. This makes me glad as I am anxious to return home, though I must admit, the idea of returning to the home I spent most of my childhood as nearly a stranger is a daunting thought. Erchirion agrees as we have spent more time in Rivendell than he had originally anticipated. Ultimately, I am glad that he chose to accompany me in my time here, as I sometimes wonder how different it would be if I were the only human here._

_Lady Arwen has written and should be returning to Rivendell within the next few months and all of the elves are anticipating her return. I look forward to seeing her again as well as I count her among my closest friends. With her return, we will most likely be visited by Lady Galadriel as well, but it is not certain as many of the roads have become more dangerous as of late. Because of the possible danger, Elladan and Elrohir have both left to escort their sister home much like they did when they left to escort Erchirion and I when we first traveled through Rohan._

_Speaking of Rohan, I don't know why exactly it interests me so deeply. Perhaps it is because of how beautiful the country is itself. It might also be that I truly enjoyed meeting the people of the country. They are an honest and hearty people and that is something that I can both respect and admire. Many of their stories feature great heroines known as shieldmaidens and I can't help but remember the young woman I made a friend with named Éowyn. I have found myself wondering about her lately and also wonder as to the welfare of her brother, Éomer._

_I will continue doing my best to become a princess both you and the whole of Gondor can be proud of before returning. I miss you Father and hope to be able to return soon. I will need to speak to Lord Elrond on this matter, but I wonder if it wouldn't be too difficult for Erchirion and I to take the boat down to Lond Daer, much like these very messages. I do not know if this will be a wise course, as I do not know the safety of a large party traveling down-stream in those parts. Perhaps Lord Elrond has other ideas in alternate routes that will work sufficiently. I will let you know when we have discussed it further ._

_Always,_

_Lothíriel_

* * *

_August 27th, 3015, Dol Amroth _

_Dear Lothíriel,_

_I have just returned from a visit in Minas Tirith. Each time I go, the city begins to become more and more grim. Your Uncle is drawing into himself and seems to listen only to the council of your cousin, Boromir. I stayed for nearly a month before returning to Dol Amroth. While I was there I was able to observe Amrothos working in the House of Healing. I am proud to admit that your brother is one of the finest healers I have ever seen. _

_Elphir and Meira have mostly recovered from the loss that occurred nearly a year ago. They still have moments during the quiet of the day that I have found them reflecting silently and are more sober than they were when they were first married. I can only hope that in time their hearts will continue to mend and they will be able to look at the world with joy again._

_I am glad to hear that your progress with both your studies with Arvellon and your training with Lord Elrond has been going smoothly. I am glad that he agrees that you will be able to return home soon. Please give my love to your brother._

_As ever,_

_Father_

* * *

_January 9th, 3016, Rivendell_

_Dear Father,_

_I spoke to Lord Elrond about my idea of traveling down the river and he agreed that it should suffice. In matters of safety, he will most likely send along his sons, Elladan and Elrohir, to help make sure everything goes smoothly. Depending on the winds, it would most likely take no longer than two months. Lord Elrond also determined that traveling by ship would be easier than on horseback this time as I now have more than just a few saddlebags worth of clothing and Erchirion has increased his collection of books by more than a few tomes. _

_So long as you approve of the journey, we will be ready to depart within the month. I hope to hear from you soon regarding the trip. I anxiously await your response._

_Yours,_

_Lothíriel_

* * *

_July 11th, 3016, Dol Amroth_

_Dear Lothíriel,_

_I apologize for the delayed response. I have been away from Dol Amroth for some time and have only just returned from Minas Tirith. This time, Amrothos has decided to return with me. Not only is Amrothos home, but Meira is once again with child. She is somewhat nervous about the health of the child but Master Hëmond comes each morning to check her and has expressed that he is very confident that so long as Meira remains in bed, the child will be well._

_I am glad Lord Elrond agrees that the route you suggested will be safe for the first half of the journey. The trip through the sea should be safe enough so long as you stay along the shore instead of heading into open waters. I will have a ship sent up to Lond Daer in the autumn with extra provisions and be commanded to await your arrival before setting off again. I am impatient for your arrival and will be watching the sea each day for your return. I can hardly imagine it, but after so many years apart, our whole family will once again be whole. Hurry home, precious daughter._

_Always with love,_

_Father_


	11. Chapter 11

Chapter 11

Rivendell

September, 3016

Lothíriel stared down at the letter and read and reread it again until she believed the words that were clearly written on it. She could go home! While she had truly grown to love Rivendell as a second home, but she missed the sea and her family. With a squeal of delight, she folded up the yellow paper and jumped up from her writing desk. Before exiting the room, she quickly studied herself in the full length mirror that stood against the wall. In the years since she had first arrived in Rivendell, she had grown quite a bit. Not only had she grown quite a bit taller and was only slightly shorter than Erchirion, but she now sported the common curves of a fully-grown woman. No one could ever mistake her for a boy again, even if she were to wear trousers.

Her long hair fell down her back like a single stroke of black ink. She had taken fairly well to the elvish hairstyles of leaving it unbound except for a few simple braids to keep it out of her face on windier days. The dress she wore now was one of the three dresses Arvellon and Arwen had stitched for her birthday one week past. It was a solid deep blue that brought out her gray eyes. Along the bottom of the skirt was a silver design embroidered to look waves. Hanging from a thin silver chain was the pearl pendant that Meira had sent her. Satisfied that she looked her best, she stood straight and walked out of the chamber hurriedly, the letter still firmly gripped in her hand. She was hardly ten feet down the hallway when she heard someone calling out to her.

"Lothíriel! When I saw that you were not present this morning for the breakfast meal, I began to worry you were in poor health." Lothíriel turned to face Glorfindel as he strode towards her, the easy smile sitting on his face. As soon as he arrived before her, he gracefully pulled her arm into the crease of his and began to lead her towards the kitchens. "The dining hall has already been emptied, but perhaps we can convince cook to part with a few leftovers?" His eyes caught sight of the letter Lothíriel was carrying. "Unless, of course, you have other matters to attend to." He stopped, turning his gaze forward. "Is it word from your father? I know that you've been anxious that he had not written for such a long time."

Lothíriel's smile widened. "It seems all my anxiety was for nothing. He was simply away on business and word did not reach him that I had written until he had returned." She stopped and held the letter out to the one who she counted among her closest friends. "You can read it if you'd like, I don't mind." Glorfindel dipped his head in acknowledgment before carefully taking the letter from her. Opening it up carefully, it only took him a few moments to read the contents and fold it up just as carefully. He looked back at her with a gleeful expression on his face.

"It seems that you will be able to return home very soon. I am very happy for you, Lothíriel." With that he handed back the letter before taking her arm once again and guiding her down the hall at a leisurely pace. "So what would you prefer to do first? Tell Lord Elrond or your brother?"

"Has Erchirion been down for breakfast already?" Her eyebrows rose slightly. It was fairly common knowledge that because Erchirion tended to read his books until well after midnight and as such he wouldn't normally awaken until the afternoon. Within the first few months of starting this schedule he had begun to lose quite a bit of weight. Cook, being the mother hen that he was, had made it his personal mission to make sure Erchirion ate. He would send up a tray shortly after it was dark with bread, cheese and fruit. Whenever the tray was returned with food left over, cook would march himself up the long winding staircase to the library and scold Erchirion. Eventually he began to gain weight again was returned to his normal size.

"I suppose not. We shall go to Lord Elrond first then, and then see to finding me some breakfast before Cook decides I need a stern talking to on the damage skipping meals could have on me." Both laughed together.

"Well then, we are in luck, for I just passed Lord Elrond. He and the Lady Arwen were taking a morning walk through the gardens." Glorfindel turned Lothíriel on her path towards the gardens she had come to know so intimately. They were not walking long before the figures of Lord Elrond and Lady Arwen were in sight and moving closer to them. She stepped away from Glorfindel and embraced Arwen as they greeted each other.

"Good morning, my dear." Elrond spoke, his voice as deep as ever. She dipped her head before smiling up at him. "I see you have brought a letter with the Swan insignia on it. Your father penned a reply at long last?" She nodded and held out the letter just as she had to Glorfindel. Elrond took it from her gently and read it swiftly. After some time, he nodded and handed back the unfolded letter. "I see. No doubt you would like to start preparing for your journey as soon as possible. As I promised before, I will have a river vessel readied for you within the month."

Lothíriel struggled to maintain her composure in front of Elrond. "I want to say now, that I appreciate both your training and the hospitality that you have shown both my brother and myself while we have been your guests." Elrond took her hands and gave her the smile he usually saved for Arwen.

"It has been a pleasure to be a part of your life, Lothíriel. You have grown from a child into a fine young woman. You are as intelligent and clever as you are beautiful and I am sad to see you go though I know without a doubt that I will see you again in the future." Elrond's words brought unexpected tears to Lothíriel's eyes. Arwen stepped forward and held out her handkerchief. After drying her eyes she faced Elrond again.

"This place has become an unexpected home to me. I think, much like how I have missed Dol Amroth these past years and have longed to return, so shall I miss Rivendell." She had to dry her eyes once again as Elrond gave her a soft pat on the shoulder before deciding to give orders for preparations to be made. As he walked away Arwen embraced her again.

"I can't believe how fast the time has gone by since you first arrived. You've grown so much, in mind and body. I am sad to see that you are leaving us after we have grown so close to each other, though I'm sure your family misses you greatly and I cannot be selfish and ask you to stay any longer than you already have." She squeezed Lothíriel's hand and kissed her cheek. I will go and send word to Estel and my brothers so that you may be able to say farewell to them too." She bid goodbye to Lothíriel and hurried down the path towards her chamber. Lothíriel and Glorfindel both continued down the path as it eventually circled close to the kitchens. For a few moments, they kept a friendly silence until Glorfindel spoke.

"I hope you will not forget to continue practicing on your harp while you are away from us. It would be a shame for you to lose such a gift. I'm sure you'll have many occasions to perform for your family and perhaps even the odd suitor or two." His voice was quiet.

"Suitors? Oh no, I don't think I need to worry about that." She felt her cheeks redden slightly.

"Well consider this, a mysterious, beautiful Gondorian princess will be returning to her homeland. The idea has a romantic notion at the very least. Once tales spread of how you are not only beautiful but intelligent and graceful as well, I have no doubt the streets will be lined with men more than ready to take your hand in marriage." He stopped walking and faced her directly. "Does the idea of being married not suit you?" His voice was somber and serious rather than the jovial tone he usually carried.

"I wouldn't say that it suits me, but I am only just going home. I want to spend time with my family while I can without having to think of the future." This gained a strange look from Glorfindel.

"Considering your lot in this life, you must always think of the future, whether you like it or not." With that he smiled and squeezed her shoulder lightly before beginning to walk down the path again. "Perhaps I will visit you after you have been with your family for some time." Lothíriel smiled widely at the thought.

"Would you really? I know you would love Dol Amroth. The sea is very beautiful and the lands surrounding the castle are filled with luscious and green forests. I'm sure you will love my Father and brothers. Even though it's been so long, I remember it as if I hadn't ever left." As she spoke the solemn expression returned to Glorfindel's face. "What is it?"

He shook his head lightly,"It's nothing very serious. I just don't want you to be disappointed if it's not all you imagined. Please remember that you remember things as a child, and children have a tendency to romanticize their memories." Lothíriel thought quietly for a few moments before finally responding.

"Even if everything isn't the same as I remember, I'm sure I will be quite glad to see my family again, and they me." They turned a corner and Lothíriel saw the herb garden sitting outside the kitchens. "I will see to it that I have some food. Perhaps tonight I can sing to some of your music?"

Glorfindel bowed slightly, allowing a small smile to return, "It would be my pleasure." He straightened and turned away from Lothíriel while she in made her way into the bustling kitchen.

* * *

Dol Amroth

September, 3016

Imrahil stood in his solar and stared out towards the sea. Each day since he had sent the ship to Lond Daer he had kept a weathered eye on the horizon for any sign of its return. On his desk behind him lay a messy pile of papers. Some of them were wage papers he needed to sign each month so that the treasury of Gondor could pay the company of extra soldiers Lord Denethor had sent for Dol Amroth's safety; others were wishes or complaints from the townspeople to their lord. He turned away from the window and the sea and began to sort through the papers, making sure to find the ones of more importance so they would be taken care of first. A knock on the door interrupted him and he placed the papers back down, this time in a somewhat neater pile, before beckoning for the person to come in.

As the door opened, Imrahil saw the face of his eldest son, Elphir. He stood and walked towards him, grabbing his shoulders affectionately. "Elphir, it is good to see you! How is your wife?"

"She has had better days. She longs to stand and walk, but she knows that it will not do her any good to do so at present. Master Hëmond reassures us that the child within her is well and growing properly. He says she will most likely have it around Yule." He looked away, his mind clearly months in the future. Something called him back to the present as he brought forward an envelope with the seal belonging to the Steward of Gondor. "This came for you. A servant was going to drop it off, but I told them I was on my way here and relieved them of that duty." Imrahil took the envelope and broke the seal. The lettering was flourished, as was normal for Denethor.

Minas Tirith, September 1st, 3016

_Prince Imrahil,_

_Greetings to you and your family. Gondor is truly a blessed nation to count Dol Amroth among it's people. I hope that all is well within your borders. I have heard that your daughter in law is expecting a child. I can only pray to all the Valar that it is a healthy boy who will be able to take on the responsibilities of Prince of Dol Amroth for many years after you and his father, Prince Elphir. I also would like to extend an invitation to Minas Tirith after the birth so that he may be presented to court._

_But these are not the matters to which I have decided to write to you of. As this is the 18th birthday for your daughter, the lovely Princess Lothíriel, she must take her place as a true lady of the court and begin to look at suitors to be married. I have arranged that shortly after she arrives home from Rivendell, she should come and visit me in Minas Tirith. While she is here, she will be treated as befits her station of course whilst meeting and determining if she cares for any Gondorian suitors. Truly though, this is only a formality, for I doubt my mind will be changed on the match I have struck for her. _

_I have kept from you the fact that I have been corresponding with King Théoden of Rohan so as not to raise your expectations until I was sure the King and I were in agreement. It seems that your daughter made quite the impression – as one from Gondor ought to – during her travels through Rohan when she was still a child. I also remember when we spoke last that you remarked that Lothíriel has taken an interest in the country of Rohan. All of this adds up to the conclusion that she will be well suited for the position of Queen of Rohan. King Théoden has agreed that Théodred has made no attempt to find a wife and as such, this is a wonderful opportunity for our two countries to strengthen our positions as allies through the marriage of Prince Théodred of Rohan and Princess Lothíriel of Dol Amroth. _

_After she has turned down her suitors in Minas Tirith, I will send for Prince Théodred to arrive and they will be able to meet. The wedding most likely will not take place until at least a proper engagement of a year so as to remain in the light of propriety. I thank you for your current and future cooperation._

_My deepest regards,_

_Denethor, Son of Ecthelion, Lord and Steward of Gondor_

Imrahil stared at the letter in shock and rage. He gripped the paper so tightly that it began to wrinkle under his fingers. He could feel his face grow hot. He stood abruptly and threw down the paper with as much force as he could muster. He stood silent for a few moments before falling back into his chair and placing his head into his hands. Elphir sat in front of him with a puzzled frown etched onto his face and picked up the letter carefully. After reading it, he stared at the writing much in the same way that his father had before standing and pacing back and forth through the solar.

"What gives him the right? It should fall to you, Lothíriel's father, to determine a marriage between her and another man, let alone a foreigner! This is not right!" He tossed the paper onto the desk as if it were trash. "We cannot allow this to go unchecked! He might as well have signed it 'King of all Gondor' for all the authority he seems to think he has!" Elphir's voice was so loud it resonated throughout the whole room. There was a swift knock at the door and as it opened, Amrothos stood with a concerned look on his face.

"What is the matter?" He shut the door behind him quietly before reaching out to try and comfort his brother. "I'm sure whatever has happened can be resolved if we speak of it calmly."

Elphir shoved Amrothos' hand away and snarled, "Our Lord and Steward has outright commanded that we ship off Lothíriel at his earliest convenience! He does not have the right to do such a thing!"

Amrothos turned to Imrahil and spoke quietly, "Surely it is a misunderstanding. Perhaps he is proposing that you think about it and give your consent to such an arrangement. Surely this is not the first you are hearing about it if plans have already been made."

"He does have the right. As the current highest authority in all of Gondor, he is able to negotiate terms of marriage without needing the consent of the parents. The fact that someone in his position would ask for permission before setting up a marriage is a respect and formality." Imrahil's voice was quiet as he spoke, the rage drained out of him. "Unless I am able to convince him to keep from fully consenting to the marriage, there is nothing I can do."

"Uncle is a reasonable person." Amrothos took a seat and looked towards Elphir. "I'm sure we can sort this out so that Lothíriel will be happy." Elphir took a seat, but his face was less resigned than that of Imrahil. "Perhaps before she is sent to Minas Tirith we can attempt to find someone to her liking here in Dol Amroth where we hold the advantage."

"We are just getting our sister back, and immediately we have to begin thinking of shipping her off to Minas Tirith and possibly Rohan?" Elphir growled under his breath.

"I think Amrothos has a point." Imrahil's back straightened slightly. "We can most likely hold her here for an indefinite period of time and do our best to find someone she likes without having to go to Minas Tirith. If she feels strongly enough for a young man of noble birth, we can perhaps persuade your uncle to forget the possibility of marriage between Lothíriel and the Rohirric prince." The others nodded in agreement. "We can set up a series of banquets as celebrations without actually calling to attention that we are seeking suitors for Lothíriel."

"The first can be a way to welcome Lothíriel home as well as celebrate Yule." The three men continued speaking quietly, planning ahead in an attempt to give Lothíriel more than the formality of meeting other men just so she can turn them down and be left with no choice but Prince Théodred.


	12. Chapter 12

Chapter 12

Lond Daer

October 3016

Lothíriel stood on the deck of the ship and stared out towards the sea in the distance. They had been traveling down the river for days and finally they were arriving at Lond Daer. Not far from where they had docked stood a elegant looking Swan-ship. It had been so long since she had seen one of them that she could hardly believe it was right before her even in the moment. The seaworthy Swan-ship stood more than three times the size of the elves' river vessel.

Erchirion stepped off the boat and onto the stone port the elves had tied to before turning back and offering his hand to help Lothíriel out as well. As she stood to her full height, several of the sailors from Dol Amroth halted their work to gaze towards her. She recognized some of their faces from when she had traveled up the Anduin towards Minas Tirith when she had first set out, but she thought better than to approach them.

Two of the elves began to unload her and Erchirion's trunks from their boat. She thanked them before turning and making her way towards the Swan-ship. Coming up along the side of the vessel, she touched it deftly. A dark skinned sailor with very bright blue eyes who seemed to be around Lothíriel's age approached her.

"Pardon, my lady, but I wanted to say that it will be an honor to be among the crew that is taking you home." He bowed sheepishly.

"She's a lovely ship. What is her name?" Lothíriel's voice was quiet, but the boy seemed to hear her all the same.

"Your father had her named The_ Valiant_, my lady, for he felt we must all be brave to volunteer to stay in Lond Daer for such a long time. Sailors tend to be a superstitious lot, and abandoned ports tend to be filled with ghosts." He looked at her nervously, "Not that I'm afraid of any ghosts, my lady."

"Please, Lothíriel is fine." She smiled kindly at him. She was so surprised at how easily he was conversing with her. She couldn't help but remember the separation she had experienced as a child in Dol Amroth after her gift manifested. She wondered what had changed.

"Lady Lothíriel then," the sheepish grin still hanging from his face. He opened his mouth but above them at the helm of the ship stood the captain who called down to the boy.

"Bergen, hop to. We still have preparations to take care of before we can get underway. I'd like to be ready leave on this afternoon's tide." The captain who called down sounded stern, but had a good natured face. His head was bald but he had a beard that shone bright red in the sun. Bergen bowed again quickly before turning on his heel and racing up the plank to aid his captain in any way required of him. Lothíriel followed his path onto the ship. As soon as she stepped foot on the vessel she saw Erchirion already aboard and speaking to the captain. As she approached the two men, Erchirion called out to her.

"Lothíriel, this is Captain Sigbert. He says that we are nearly ready to cast off and all we really have to wait on is the tide to change." Erchirion took Lothíriel's elbow and guided her gently towards the red-bearded captain.

She nodded politely when he bowed to her. "Do we have enough provisions to make it back to Dol Amroth without any of your men going hungry? I know you have been here for quite some time already."

Captain Sigbert nodded his affirmation. Although his face was grim, his eyes had a glint in them. "Indeed my lady, we prepared to wait for your arrival for a much longer time. And with a crew this small," he gestured to the ten sailors working on the ship, "We barely went through half our supplies. If the winds decided to give us trouble the trip will last no more ten days, and if the winds are favorable, we'll be home in about a week."

"Thank you, Captain. We won't distract you from your duties any longer and make sure all of out belongings are aboard before you are ready to cast off." Erchirion nodded to the captain before leading Lothíriel away and down the plank and back towards the elvish river vessel where several of the elves stood waiting. The Swan Knights were carrying the trunks belonging to Erchirion and Lothíriel. Once they explained where they wanted them on the ship, it didn't take long before everything was aboard and ready for their departure. Lothíriel saw Elladan and Elrohir standing away with their eyes on the woods, most likely looking to see if there would be any trouble. As she approached, Elladan turned around and smiled her.

"You will be leaving soon." It wasn't a question but Lothíriel nodded anyway. "I see. We doubt that this will be the last time we see you. _Na lû e-govaned vîn, novaer hiril vuin._" Elladan placed a hand over his heart and bowed deeply to Lothíriel. Elrohir followed Elladan's gesture and spoke very quietly.

"_N'i lû tôl, savo 'lass a lalaith_." Both elves straightened simultaneously. Lothíriel felt a lump in her throat and tears welling in her eyes.

"_Boe annin gwad, ne guren níniatha n'i lû n'i a-govenitham. Galu_." She stepped forward and touched both of their hands lightly. Elladan wiped a stray tear from her cheek and lightly kissed her forehead. Elrohir simply squeezed Lothíriel's shoulder. She turned away from them and silently made her way towards the ship. On her way she passed Erchirion who went to say his goodbyes as well. Standing on the ship, she stared out to the horizon where the sea was. Once they left she would nearly be home and she would be able to see her family again.

* * *

Aldburg

October 3016

Éomer left the stables exhausted. He stared up into the sky as stars began to dot the darkening blue expanse. He had been there longer than he had expected. Behind him, Tania exited the building and stood next to him. He looked down at her and saw her disheveled blond hair. Her light brown eyes gazed up at him.

"Are you satisfied, my lord?" Her lilting voice was soft and quiet. Éomer nodded and turned his face upwards once again.

"I am indeed." He sighed to himself contentedly. It had been a long time coming, but it had finally happened.

"She will make a fine mare for you, my lord. Have you thought of a name yet?" She began to stride forward. Her walk wasn't the graceful gliding steps of a woman brought up in court like his sister, but one of purpose. In the past two days he had become better acquainted with Tania and had grown to admire the fact that he did not have to measure his gait to accommodate her. She was a good woman, and an excellent horse breeder.

"Well, seeing as she was bred from Firestorm, I think the name Soulstorm will do nicely for her." They stopped on the steps leading to the great hall. "I was worried for a bit that something would foul up the birth. I've never heard of a horse lasting that long before." Tania shook her head slightly.

"It happens every once in a while. Among my fellow breeders it is normally taken as an omen that the horse being born will be very strong. Even some midwives believe it is the same for children." Éomer looked over her dress and apron which were speckled with blood and other fluids from the animals.

"I should let you go and wash yourself rather than keep you here." He gestured to the plains where's e the breeder's tents could be seen over Aldburg's walls. "How long do you think you'll be staying near Aldburg?"

Tania shrugged. "That all depends on my father. He normally likes to keep on the move. Is there anything you would like me to tell him when I return to the camp?"

"I only ask that you give him my thanks for such a fine mare to breed Firestorm with. Do you require a bath here?" She looked towards the great hall of Aldburg and shook her head in response.

"While it is appreciated, my lord, I told my father I would not linger after the delivery was finished. We will leave the mare here until we return." She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. "As I said, I mustn't delay, but if you would like, you could escort me back to the camp." She raised her eyebrows slightly. Éomer was tempted to take her up on her offer, but he knew he had received word recently from Edoras. He had been so caught up in making sure Soulstorm's delivery went smoothly that he hadn't even opened the letter yet. He shook his head.

"I'm afraid that tonight I cannot. But please let your father know that you and your encampment are always welcome in Aldburg. I bid you a good evening." A look of disappointment flashed across Tania's face for an instant before she smiled at Éomer and lightly touched his arm.

"Good evening, my lord. I will tell my father." With that she turned away from him and strode quickly down the path and within moments she was hidden from sight by the buildings. Éomer sighed lightly and began to make his way up the steps and into his home.

"First a bath, then onto business." He muttered to himself. One of the men who belonged to his éored looked at him quizzically.

"Did you say something, my lord?" the solemn man asked. Éomer shook his head and just simply entered the building, finding the first maid he crossed paths with and ordered a bath drawn in his room. When he reached his room, he found it just as he had left it. Sitting in a wooden chair by the fire he waited for the servants to bring what he had requested. On his desk lay the letter from Edoras. From the writing on the envelope he could see it was from Éowyn. Reaching his long arm over to the desk he grasped it. Fingering the seal that showed the letter hadn't been opened he sighed and was just about to open the envelope when a sharp knock sounded at the door. Standing, he tossed the letter back onto the desk and strode towards the door. When he opened it, the maids carried in the tub and hot water for him.

As soon as the chamber was empty again, he began to remove the clothes that had become caked with dirt and grime. Swiftly he stepped into the steaming water. He let out a deep breath as he allowed himself to relax. He sat for minutes without moving, simply allowing the heat to saturate into his sore muscles. Finally, once he was relaxed enough, he picked up the bar of soap and began to scrub two and a half days worth of grime and sweat from his skin. By the time he finally stepped out of the tub, the water no longer resembled anything to the clear water that had been inside before the bath. Moving over to the closet, he threw on a pair of trousers and tunic. Opening his door to symbolize that he was finished with the bath, he took his place at the desk and took up the envelope once again.

Breaking the seal, he pulled out the parchment and began reading.

_Dear Brother,_

_Things in Edoras are not going very well. Uncle's health has hardly got any better. When Master Charis from the House of Healing here first saw him, he judged that Uncle would better the illness with ease, but it has been a month and there has been almost no improvement but Uncle has decided to continue ruling as if there was nothing wrong. Each day he speaks less and less and the advisor Gríma speaks in his place. I feel this does not bode well. Gríma makes orders in Uncle's name and because Uncle himself does not outright object to any of them they are being followed without question. His first order of business was to declare that any incoming mail be delivered to him on behalf of the King. He has also taken to attempting to read my outgoing mail, and it took a great amount of work to smuggle this letter on its way to you._

_Please, Éomer, I would request that you come to Edoras and see Uncle yourself. Théodred returned to the city a few days ago and while he remained in the city, Uncle seemed more himself. I am wondering if perhaps you came to the capital and tried to persuade Uncle to rest he might. I would recommend that you do not write any sort of response as Gríma will read it and know I sent word for you without his approval. I hope you will be able to join us soon._

_Long life and health to you,_

_Éowyn_

Éomer was so focused on the contents of the letter that when he finished and realized that the tub had already been removed from his chamber he chastised himself for allowing a moment where he was not aware of his surroundings. He stood and barred the door before returning to the desk and reading the letter a second time. A feeling of unease swept over him. He had received word that his Uncle had fallen ill nearly a month ago but he had hoped it would have passed by after such an amount of time.

He stood and began to pace slowly. Would it be wise to leave for Edoras without being summoned by the king? Surely he could choose to visit his sister anytime he wanted? No, he did not have that freedom. He was Third Marshal now and lord of Aldburg. He couldn't just leave without a good reason to give to the King. He couldn't just ignore his sister's summons either. His paces grew faster and longer in stride that he had lapped the room at least a hundred times before he finally stopped. He could take a report of the East-Mark. Then, technicality, he would still be following his uncle's orders as Third Marshal. He threw open his door and strode down the dimly lit hallway with a new sense of purpose. He only stopped when he reached the door of his captain.

"Éothain!" he knocked loudly and waited for a full ten seconds before renewing the banging on the door. "Éothain!" Finally the door opened and the tired captain stood in front of his Marshal.

"My lord," he started, "what on earth possessed you to come banging and shouting at my door?"

"Éothain," Éomer's voice thundered, "you should be ashamed that it took you so long to be roused. What if we were in battle and you came out dressed as you are now?" He gestured to the man who was only wearing trousers that Éomer could clearly see were tied up loose and hurriedly.

Éothain leaned against the door frame and yawned, "I see nor hear any evidence of a battle taking place. Are we in battle?" He didn't wait for Éomer to respond. "And do not speak to me of proper attire until you've looked at your own self, my lord. Now, unless it's something important, I would like to go back to bed." Éomer sheepishly looked down over his own garments. While he was dressed more than Éothain by wearing trousers and his tunic, he had been so focused on beginning preparations that he had forgotten to put on shoes.

"It is important." His voice lowered as he waited for the captain to stand straight once again and look him in the eye before continuing. "I want you to begin making preparations with the men to leave for Edoras at first light the day after tomorrow." Éothain's eyes lit for a moment.

"You were summoned by the King?" Éothain no longer looked quite so asleep any longer. Éomer shook his head. "Well then why would we go to Edoras? Is there something wrong?"

Éomer's voice was steady and rigid, the commanding tone in his voice did not go unheard. "I am not sure, but I mean to find out."

**Translations:**

**Na lû e-govaned vîn, novaer hiril vuin (Until we meet again, farewell my lady.)**

**N'i lû tôl, savo 'lass a lalaith (Until then, have joy and laughter.)**

**Boe annin gwad, ne guren níniatha n'i lû n'i a-govenitham. Galu (I must go, but my heart will weep until I see you again. Goodbye.)**


	13. Chapter 13

Chapter 13

Dol Amroth

November 3016

Her heart was beating a tattoo in her chest, Lothíriel stood on the upper deck, watching Dol Amroth get closer and closer. They had been at sea for just over a week and and the previous night she glimpsed the silhouette of the castle against the beautiful expanse of sky and stars. As she continued to stare towards her home, she willed the winds and the seas to carry them on their way quickly. She was ready to be home. She was ready to see her family again.

"The journey goes by so fast in the beginning, but the moment that you see your home, every second drags, does it not my lady?" Captain Sigbert's rumbling voice sounded behind Lothíriel. She turned away from distant city.

"I watch and am afraid that we will never reach it. It still seems so far." Her voice could not hide her trembling anxiety.

"Nonsense, my lady. If these winds keep up, we should be entering port before dusk tonight. I'd venture to say that you'll be home in time for supper." He crossed his arms when he saw no change in her expression he added, "If I may, my lady, there is a saying that I have grown quite fond of. 'Patience is not simply the ability to wait – it's how we behave while we're waiting.' Time will always go on, so we must always wait for something, but we can control how we act when we're waiting. If you continue to sit and stare, hoping to see Dol Amroth get closer each moment, I cannot stop you, but it will only make the time last longer. Do something to distract yourself, and I guarantee you won't know where the time went." He bowed to Lothíriel and turned away before she could answer.

"That's the most he's spoken all at once in a long time, my lady!" Bergen, who must have been keeping from the captain's sight, said quietly so as not to be heard. "He must truly like you if he's being this talkative."

"That's the first time he's spoken to me at all without my brother present." Recalling the advice of the captain, Lothíriel asked, "Bergen, what do you do to distract yourself during the length of your journeys?" Bergen sheepishly looked down.

"Not to be rude, my lady, but I don't need any distractions. Captain's always got me doing a chore whether it's swabbing the deck or aiding the cook." He ran his fingers through his hair. "If anything, I try to keep from being too distracted."

Lothíriel sighed. "You must think me very spoiled to be asking for distractions when you're always working." When she looked at Bergen she didn't see any judgment on his face.

"My lady, we are all given our lots in life, and they all come with different difficulties and responsibilities." He smiled wistfully to himself. "That's what my mother used to tell me."

"She must be a very wonderful lady to have such wisdom." Then one of the words Bergen had used registered in her mind. "What do you mean, 'used to'?"

The smile faltered for a moment. "My mother was killed when I was but sixteen years." The sun, as if sensing the change in mood, darkened behind a cloud. "My mother came from Harad many years ago to make a better life for herself. Women in Harad tend to be treated very poorly unless you are among the elite, and even then, those women are considered property. When she smuggled herself out of the city, she sought the aid of a tradesman from Gondor. She would see him walking down the market every few months and eventually they became acquainted. When he saw how she lived, he offered her the ability to leave Harad. She agreed without a second thought and the tradesman began a plan to sneak her onto his ship and out to sea where she could be free.

"The two of them snuck from shadow to shadow, getting closer to the ship with each step. Once my mother's absence was noticed, her father had the alarm sounded and the two rushed forward towards the tradesman's ship. His crew, who had been warned of the plan beforehand, had prepared everything to leave. It was a miracle they were not caught during the mad run to his ship. As soon as they arrived however, the man heard noises behind him. Guards called out for him to halt, while my mother snuck into the hold of the ship and hid within a barrel of plums.

"The guards questioned the tradesman for a long time and even searched the ship for the runaway. My mother would tell me of how she held her breath in fear they would hear even that when they neared the barrel. They left the ship and searched through the rest of the town while the tradesman's crew began to cast off. While they were at sea, my mother, came to know the tradesman very well and they found they shared feelings of love. They married each other on that ship and made a child which turned out to be me. My father later died while out at sea and my mother never quite recovered so when she grew ill, her will to fight and live on wasn't strong enough." He sighed heavily. "And after she died and I was left all alone, the captain offered me a position on this ship."

Lothíriel reached forward and touched Bergen lightly on the arm. He looked at her face with surprise for a moment before smiling sadly to the princess. "I am sure she is proud of you for continuing on without her. I lost my mother before I even had the chance to know her. I can't imagine what it would be like to lose another parent." She let her hand fall. She would have continued but the captain's voice rang out from the helm.

"Bergen! There you are lad. Do I pay you to lounge about and talk to beautiful ladies all day?" Lothíriel didn't miss the hint of humor in his tone. Bergen's face changed from the bittersweet expression to one of professional positivity before bowing quickly to Lothíriel. "I apologize for taking up your time." As soon as he straightened he turned and rushed off to do whatever chore was needed doing.

"It was nothing," Lothíriel said to the man's back, even though she doubted he could hear her words. Thinking of the story that Bergen had been telling, she wandered into her cabin where Erchirion was busy reading one of the books Elrohir had given to him as a gift. When she took a seat next to him, he began to quietly read aloud.

* * *

Lothíriel was woken from her unexpected nap by someone shaking her slightly. She sat up slowly. She had not meant to fall asleep, but the combination of Erchirion's quiet, soothing voice as well as the rocking of the ship had been too much for her. She opened her eyes and saw Erchirion standing in front of her.

"What is it?" she asked sleepily. She looked out the window and saw the sky had begun to darken. Her ears picked up the sound of several voices she hadn't heard on the ship before. She jumped up, now fully awake. "Are we here?" Erchirion nodded, a smile on his face.

"Although we haven't fully come through the dock yet, we will have our feet back on Gondorian land very soon. I figured that you would not want to sleep through such an event." He looked affectionately at Lothíriel.

"Certainly not!" She began to run her hands over her hair. "Do I look alright? I don't want to look a mess when I see Father." All of her anxiety came rushing forward. "What if he's disappointed? What if I'm not good enough as I am now?" She continued mumbling her fears until Erchirion gently placed his hand on her shoulder.

"Lothíriel," his voice was quiet and soothing as he led her to the small mirror, "you look beautiful. Father will be so proud to see you when we arrive. Not only are you beautiful but you are talented and clever as well. I am sure that everyone will see you and find they care for you deeply."

"You don't think Father will send me away again?" Her anxiety had calmed somewhat, but the tone of nervousness hung in the air.

"I cannot claim to know the future, but I do not think he would desire it. And if he does try to, I will have words with him." Erchirion hugged her for a few long moments before letting her go. A single tear had fallen onto her cheek. He wiped it away tenderly with his thumb. "This is a happy day. Come," he took her hand and began out the door, "let's watch as the ship fully comes into the dock." Lothíriel nodded and followed her brother outside.

* * *

Edoras

November 3016

Éowyn stared out into the expanse of grass watching for any riders coming to or from Edoras. The cold wind blew past her but she seemed to feel nothing from it. It had been only a few weeks since her brother had arrived and departed at her request. She had hoped that at the sight of him their uncle would awaken at least a small amount from illness, but it was not to be. Each day he deteriorated more and more and Éowyn was forced to watch helplessly. She began to turn to walk back into the now gloomy hall of Meduseld when the faint sound of approaching horses pricked at her ears. Her eyes followed the sound and she saw Théodred and his éored thundering over the plains at a breakneck speed. Deciding to wait for them, she remained standing on the terrace outside.

She did not have to wait long. As they entered the city some of the men stayed in the lower-city amongst the people, greeting friends and family members while others followed their prince up to the stables. Théodred handed Brego's reigns to the stablehand who stood waiting just outside of the stables and began to march up the steps with purpose written on his face.

"Westu Théodred Hal," she barely had the words out of her mouth before he passed her. She hiked up her skirts and rushed to keep up with him. His face was a mask of anger and determination. That anger only grew when the two men standing in front of the entrance to Meduseld barred their way with their spears.

"I apologize for the inconvenience, my lord prince, but we have orders that there are no weapons to be allowed in the presence of the King." The guards face remained stoic but Éowyn knew he must have been sweating from anxiety. Théodred was normally one of the most cool and collected people Éowyn had ever met, but when he was angry, even Éomer knew he was not a force that could be matched.

"On whose orders?" growled Théodred so quietly he wouldn't have been heard had it not been as silent as the dead.

"Advisor Gríma, my lord." The guard shifted nervously.

"Now please remind me," Théodred's voice was steadily growing louder with each word, "because I must have forgotten, do I bow to advisor Gríma?"

"No, my lord, but-" the other guard pitched in. Théodred wheeled on the other guard with a snarl.

"No, I do not." Each word was exaggerated as if he were talking to a belligerent child. "The only person who I bow to is my father, your King. So unless my father gave you a direct order that I could not carry my weapons into the hall when I am calling upon my father, I suggest you allow me to pass." Both guards looked at each other unsteadily before removing their spears from Théodred's path. He threw the doors open and burst into the hall and continued on his march towards the throne where the shell of a man who used to be a great king occupied it.

Like a shadow, Gríma appeared at her uncle's side and stood with his chin held high, even though there was a look of fear hidden behind his eyes. Théodred bowed to his father dutifully and hailed him, with his éored echoing the hail behind him before he began speaking adamantly.

"Father, I summoned a company of riders from Edoras less than a month ago. I was assured they would arrive at all haste, but weeks passed with no riders and no news. It wasn't until a few days ago that less than a quarter of the men I required joined with me. When I asked them what could possibly have dwindled their numbers they told me that all but they were ordered to remain in Edoras. Now I have come for myself to see who gave that order." Éowyn watched as her uncle muttered something under his breath. Gríma bent down and listened intently before straightening again.

"The King ordered the men you were promised to stay here for the protection of this fine city. Something," he paused to lick his lips, "came up, my lord. He apologizes for any inconvenience."

"Inconvenience?" Théodred's voice echoed throughout the entire hall. "The riders who did arrive assured me it was by your order and that you used the name of the King in his state. Do not think to fool me with such careful excuses. A third of my men died unnecessarily due to the fact that our reinforcements never arrived in time. The only reason we all didn't die is due to the aid of Lord Erkenbrand. Those riders who died will never be able to see their families again. Never feel the wind rush past them as they ride a horse. Never feel the sun fall on their face."

"I'm sure their sacrifice was not in vain. Besides, by choosing the life of a rider, they must be prepared to die as a rider." Gríma's voice and face projected a look of duty, but the only feeling Éowyn could imagine from it was one of slime.

"What could a worm like you possibly know of sacrifice?" The prince's voice had dropped once again to that of a whisper. "You know nothing of the events taking place in the West-Mark. Those men would have survived had you not intervened. Next time you desire to contradict my orders, make sure they come directly from the King before you begin to use your forked tongue." Théodred bowed once more to his father before turning on his heel and stormed out of Meduseld and back down to the stables.

Éowyn rushed after him only to see him already mounted on his horse. He called out for his riders to follow him and began winding his way out of the city. Within minutes, Éowyn was left standing on the terrace, staring out onto the plains as if Théodred had never been there.

* * *

It would have been so easy. Gríma fingered the handle of his dagger that he carried with him always. He could have just stepped forward and killed the prince. He was faster than people tended to anticipate. Perhaps it was because he was so small, or the fact that his face seemed to make others think he was sickly. Either way, he could have easily ended the prince's life in a matter of seconds. But that was not the plan. He needed to make sure that another misstep like the group of riders who defied orders and left for their prince and the aid of Lord Erkenbrand showing up did not happen again. The prince would die, but it wouldn't be at his own hand, unfortunately.

His mind shifted to the letter that had arrived from Gondor only four months past. It had held a proposition for the peoples of Rohan and Gondor to strengthen their bond through the marriage of the Princess Lothíriel of Dol Amroth and Prince Théodred. Gríma cursed under his breath. If only the letter had been delayed for another month or two and the King wouldn't have been well enough to agree to the match. The King had given his blessing for the match so long as the princess did not object. Gríma dared not hope for that outcome, as Théodred was heir to the throne of Rohan. And it wouldn't do for the two to be married and creating little heirs before he could be disposed of.

No, he couldn't stop the marriage from happening, but perhaps he could delay it. He knew that the Gondorians were a people who valued traditions over everything else. Perhaps he could convince them they needed to wait until she had reached a certain age before marrying as a Rohirric custom. And when he was questioned about why the engagement was so long by anyone from Rohan, he would simply state that the Steward had insisted on the length. He smiled to himself. Everything was falling into place. He would have time to come up with a strategy to get rid of Théodred and need not worry about having to figure out how to get away with killing a princess and babe.

He stared out of the open doorway to the silhouette of Éowyn in her typical white dress. Her long blond hair flowing with the wind behind her. Her soft pale skin begging to be touched. Gríma shook his head. Such thoughts were meant for private places where he could fantasize to his heart's content, and one day, they wouldn't be fantasies any longer, but cold, hard reality.


	14. Chapter 14

Chapter 14

Dol Amroth

November 3016

Imrahil stood on the docks as the Valiant finally finished pulling into the port. The plank was lowered and just as soon as it was steady in its place, two figures descended. Even though he hadn't seen them for seven years, Imrahil recognized his second son and daughter immediately. He knew he shouldn't have been surprised that little girl he had said goodbye to had turned into such a beautiful woman. As she came closer her noted that although she looked so much like his late wife, there were small differences: the curve of her lips, the straightness and darkness of her hair, the color of her eyes. Erchirion, who stood beside her and was holding her arm as if to steady his sister, had grown as well, though not quite so drastically as Lothíriel. His face looked like it belonged more to a man than before. Imrahil stepped forward, out of the crowd and he was pleased that he saw recognition on his children's faces. Lothíriel stepped away from Erchirion and came to stand directly in front of her father. He watched as she hesitated for a moment before reaching out to embrace him.

"Hello Father." They held each other for a long while until he held her away from him to take another look at her.

"Oh, my darling girl!" Imrahil felt the wetness in his eyes build. When he looked at Lothíriel's face, he saw a similar expression. He pulled her into another embrace and ran his hand over her hair. "You've grown so much. I have missed you so dearly." Lothíriel stepped away from him and wiped the tears from her cheeks. Imrahil saw a strange expression in her eyes that he could only describe as relief. He turned his face towards his son. "Erchirion!" he reached forward and the two men clasped hands firmly.

"Hello Father, it has been a long time." He smiled slightly and Imrahil couldn't keep from pulling him into an embrace as well.

"Where is everyone else?" Lothíriel asked quietly. She looked around throughout the crowd until she realized that no one else from her family was there.

"They are back in the castle. Elphir didn't want to leave Meira to wait by herself and Amrothos was summoned to the House of Healing only moments before your ship pulled in. Your Aunt Ivriniel is here as well, but she is stiff from her journey here and did not desire to walk any further." He took Lothíriel's arm and to guide her to the road leading to the castle. As they walked, all three chatted casually about Lothíriel and Erchirion's journey home. The time it took to finally arrive at the castle was lost on Imrahil. He was so caught up in the emotion and moment of finally having his family all in Dol Amroth once again, that he wanted it to last forever.

* * *

Lothíriel felt such joy and relief with each step that brought her closer to her home. She noted the expressions on each person's face as she passed them. Some of the people would suddenly grow silent around them and made no attempt to hide their open stares. Erchirion kept talking of the journey from the ship and every once in a while Lothíriel would add a few words to the conversation, but she didn't want to talk. She wanted to take in everything. Somehow, it wasn't exactly as she had remembered. Everything seemed a bit smaller than she had remembered as a child, though she wondered if that was simply because she was made to look up at things more then.

When they finally arrived at the doors leading to the great hall, Lothíriel stepped into the warm light and cheerful voices. She looked around and saw a group of soldiers pass. While most wore the armor of Dol Amroth, others sported the typical armor of a soldier of Minas Tirith. She wondered why they were in Dol Amroth, but remembered the shadow her father had spoken of in his letters. Her musings were cut short when she spotted Aunt Ivriniel sitting with Elphir discussing something with great concentration. It did not take long, however, for their presence to be noticed by all the inhabitants. As soon as Elphir and Ivriniel noticed their entrance they both stood so suddenly that Lothíriel could hear the sound of wood scraping against stone.

"Lothíriel! Erchirion!" They shouted in unison and rushed forward to embrace her. Lothíriel felt tears begin to build at their joyful and excited expressions but quickly blinked them back. Lothíriel felt her aunt's lips push against her cheeks while Elphir's strong arms pulled her against his chest.

"It's so good you're home. Dol Amroth hasn't been the same without you, little sister." Elphir whispered into her ear. "And Meira can't wait to see you, she's taking a nap at the moment." He pulled away and Lothíriel found her hands held tightly by her aunt.

"You look well, my dear. I am so glad to see you here again, but my have you grown. Let he have a good look at you, girl." Lothíriel couldn't help but smile at the way her aunt held he by the shoulders, pushing her until she was at arm's length. Lothíriel stood stock still at attention as Ivriniel inspected. "Yes," she declared quietly, "you've grown into a fine looking young woman."

"All this fuss, you'd have thought somebody important was here," a voice teased from behind the group. Lothíriel turned around and smiled when she saw the speaker's face.

"Amrothos!" She rushed towards him. "I'm home."

"And so you are. I am glad to see you again, Lothig." He tucked a stray hair behind her ear. "It seems you're not such a little flower now though." Lothíriel nodded.

"Tonight we will sup as a family united once again." Her father declared. "Dol Amroth is whole again for the first time in seven years." A great cheer sounded from everyone in the great hall and Lothíriel thought again how happy she was that she had finally come home.

* * *

Rohan, the East-Mark

December 3016

Éomer sat on top of Firestorm and looked out along the snowy plains of his homeland. Normally they were empty but this time the familiar colored tents of the horse breeders stood pitched. Even from this far away, he could hear the music as well as the typical sounds of the nomadic people. He guided his éored down to the encampment, stopping in front of the breeding master's tent. As he dismounted, the flap of the tent opened and Éomer saw the surprised face of Tania emerge.

"Éomer," she was quiet, "what are you doing here?"

"Now is that any way to great an old friend?" Éomer teased. "I was patrolling and happened to see your camp in the distance. Do you think your father would mind sharing the area for us to stay the night?" Tania shrugged and stepped aside, holding the flap open for Éomer.

"You'll have to ask him yourself, Third Marshal." She smiled. "And perhaps when you're done, you could tell me about what happened in the capital. You left so urgently, a girl might feel like you were trying to avoid her if she didn't know better."

"I'll tell you everything that happened later, on my honor." Éomer returned the smile before stepping into the dimly lit tent. It took him a moment for his eyes to adjust, but once they did, he saw Master Talisund , sitting in the center of his tent, absently stirring a bowl of stew as he gazed into nothingness. Éomer respectfully took a seat on one of the cushions sitting around a leather map of Rohan. After a while Talisund cleared his throat and Éomer peered up into his wizened gaze.

"Ah, Lord Éomer, I see that you have arrived just as I knew you would." He spooned a bit of the stew into his mouth before continuing. "How is your new mare growing? Tania spoke of how difficult it was to bring her to into this world."

"If her rate of growth is to be an indicator, I would judge that she will grow to be a mighty horse indeed. Each time I circle back to visit Aldburg I check on her and am quite pleased with her progress. Once the frost has melted, I will begin her initial training." Éomer watched as Talisund nodded and stroked his long beard.

"Very good." He began to stare again for a moment before speaking in a tone as if he were dreaming. "I feel this horse will aid you in a way you could not anticipate. Be steady with her training, for she will need it dearly in the years to come." Éomer paid close attention to the words, making sure to heed them. The elderly man cleared his throat and the spell was broken. "Now, my lord, why have you come to this old man's tent?"

"I have come not only to pay my respects to you but to request a place within your camp for my éored this night. I feel it will aid my men's morale to spend time in the company of other Rohirrim." Éomer kept his back straight, but bowed respectively to the master breeder.

"Of course, you must stay at least the night. And not only will it heighten your éored's morale, I'm sure that my people will most likely sleep more soundly knowing they have you to protect them this night, just as all of Eastern Rohan must feel about you." He smiled and waved his hand towards the tent's entrance. "You should see to your men right off, I shall retire for the evening as today's journey has exhausted me." Éomer stood and bowed, a smile on his face as well.

"I hope you rest well, Master Talisund." He turned on his heel and stepped towards the opening.

"And the same to you, my lord."

* * *

Éomer was pleased at how quickly everything was set up. The men from his éored mingled with the breeders and the conversations and songs were merry and loud. He had just begun to make his way to Tania's tent to speak to her as he had promised when his captain, Éothain, called out to him.

"My lord, what is our plan for tomorrow? Yule will be upon us soon, and I doubt your sister would want you to miss the celebrations in Edoras." He wore a small smile on his face.

"I was thinking something similar. I did cause great _offense_ to Wormtongue, so how can I possibly ever show my face in the city again?" The sarcasm in his tone was more than evident.

"So shall I inform the men that we will prepare to go to Edoras for Yule?" Éomer shook his head looking at his more serious companion.

"Not right away. I want to stop by Aldburg before heading to Edoras. Some of the men in the éored have family there and I wouldn't want to separate them during that time. After that, we will make preparations to leave for Edoras directly." Éomer saw the smile on Éothain's face as he nodded and couldn't help but return it. The captain turned and began to share the news with the already happy men. Éomer watched only for a few moments before continuing on his way to Tania's tent. After calling out to her quietly, the flap shifted and she stood in front of him.

"Éomer, and here I thought you had just up and left again." She teased.

"I'm never going to live that down, am I?" He stepped through the entrance.

"Never," Éomer took a seat as Tania laughed lightly. "Now, I believe you owe me a story." She took a seat opposite of him and handed him a bowl of stew. "It's beef and cabbage," she indicated the bowl with a nod of her head. Éomer dipped his in appreciation before trying out the flavor. It was a bit salty for his taste, but he knew that the breeders tended to salt their meats very well due to how they traveled.

"I do. I had received a letter from my sister and thought it was best to travel to Edoras right away…"

* * *

Edoras

October, 3016

Éomer looked towards the beloved city of Edoras as the noon sun stood high above. It hadn't taken his éored long to prepare and leave for their journey, but each moment felt longer than it was as Éowyn's letter ran through his mind over and over. Why had he been so preoccupied with the birth of a single mare? He spurred his horse onwards with Éothain at his side.

"I'm sure she's fine." Éothain's quiet words of consolation echoed within Éomer.

"I certainly hope so." The Marshal responded. With each step the city grew closer and closer until finally they were at the gates. They rode through and Éomer watched as the stablehand took Firefoot, the stallion who had taken Firestorm's place a year ago, into the stall reserved for the rider. He saw to it that Éowyn's mount was still in the stables before striding up the stairs towards Meduseld.

The two guards nodded to him with quiet greetings before turning their stoic expressions forward once again. When he stepped in the hall, he saw, for the first time what Éowyn had described. The man sitting on the throne was no longer the strong, warm man who had taken in his orphaned niece and nephew as if they were his own children. This man was cold and grey like that of living stone. Éomer stepped forward cautiously, surveying how, like the image of his uncle, the hall itself had become gloomy and dark. Finally, arriving in front of the King, Éomer said the iconic words.

"Hail, Théoden King, Lord and Master of the Riddermark." The response he was hoping for was never issued as a small man slinked to the side of the King.

"Third Marshal," the only word Éomer could use to describe voice that obviously belonged to Gríma son of Galmod, was moist, "What brings you to Edoras without a summons from the King?" A slight tone of irritation, like when a fly enters a room, filled the hall.

"I have come to report on my findings of the East-Mark." Éomer spoke directly to the King, making sure not to even glance at Gríma.

Gríma sighed, as if it were the most odious task before waving his hand dismissively. "Then be about your business, Marshal. The King is weary from a long day and you are only proving to make it longer." Éomer felt the hand of rage grab hold of him and he placed his hand on the pommel of his sword.

"Orc and Dunlending attacks from the East have been growing steadily in the past weeks . The orcs especially have been openly seeking out and attacking the breeders and stealing the black horses. There have been ten thefts and thirteen deaths among the breeders. One small village was burned by Dunlendings but the people were all accounted for as my éored arrived in time to aid them." As Éomer continued his report he watched his uncle for any changes in his expression, but it was like looking at a dead man. Finally he concluded, "I would like to request an increase of food from the granaries to be sent to Aldburg where the refugees are now living until the winter passes."

"Would you drain Edoras of all its supplies along with you so that you might add to your own meal?" A small smile was etched into Gríma's face. "How incredibly selfish of you to ask such a thing. The people of Edoras need to eat as well."

Éomer felt his jaw set, " I am not asking to take the food from the King's larder but from the stores that have been set aside for such occasions." His voice was growing progressively louder. The King began to mutter something and Gríma bent over and listened before standing and sighing.

"Very well, Third Marshal, we can spare three bags of grain. Please be ready to pick them up before tomorrow morning when you depart. Now," he placed his sickeningly pale hand on the King's shoulder, "Your Lord King is tired from this discussion and requires rest. Please see to it that you complete all your necessary tasks you need to finish before tomorrow." He helped the King to his feet and led him away towards his chambers. Éomer watched the pair leave with a mixture of anger at the advisor's pompous attitude and sadness at his uncle's disposition. He turned and saw, standing in the corner, Éowyn, dressed completely in white.

"Hello, elder brother." She came forward and embraced him for only a moment. "I am glad you decided to come. Now you can see how Gríma has begun to 'rule' in uncle's stead." Éomer nodded.

"Indeed, this is not right. Where is Théodred? You said he came and it seemed to bring life back to the King." Éomer scanned the room for anyone listening to their conversations. "Surely he could aid in the rule of Edoras rather than Gríma?"

"He said he would when he was here, but the West has been growing more and more volatile. Bigger, stronger orcs than we are used to have begun to attack and Théodred came to request more men added to his éored. After he left, Uncle just got worse and I am beginning to wonder why he has shown no improvement." Her words were barely over a whisper. Éomer stroked his chin.

"I feel similarly. In the past he has always conquered sicknesses with ease, remaining, at most, in bed for a week. This is not natural." Éomer saw Gríma reenter the hall and gaze towards the brother and sister. Éomer glared at him for a while until the man slinked off into a shadow. "I do have things I must see to while I am here, but you and I will speak more before the day is out." Éowyn nodded and the two separated.

* * *

Rohan, the East-Mark

December, 3016

"…and after that, I found that Gríma had taken offense at my actions and felt they reflected poorly on the King. While he did not challenge me directly, I have heard word from Théodred that he has started banning certain people from carrying weapons before the king." He finished his stew and placed the empty bowl down beside him.

"He only gave you three bags of grain for an entire village worth of refugees?" Tania looked stunned as she watched Éomer nod. "How are you going to feed them and all of Aldburg if you don't have enough?" Éomer crossed his arms.

"I put a ration on the grain that we have already in the stores and while in Edoras, several families gave me a bit of their portion so we ended up with more than we expected. I doubt anyone in Aldburg will grow fat this winter, but they will not starve."

"Father says we will be returning to Aldburg before the first snowmelt. While we are there, perhaps we can share some of our food as well." Éomer shook his head at Tania's words.

"You have a good heart Tania, and that is something to be very proud of, but my people and the refugees will be fine in the end. And the breeders need all the food you can get for the amount of time you are traveling without means to grow your own food." With a resigned sigh, Tania agreed. She was just about to say something else when there a woman entered the tent.

"Tania, there's a problem with Bridget's delivery. The babe is not facing the right way. I apologize for the interruption, but you have the most experience with such things." Tania nodded at the woman's words and hastily pulled out her apron from a bag.

"If you'll pardon me, Marshal Éomer, I have work ." With that she followed the woman out of the tent. Éomer followed her as far as the entrance of the tent before walking the opposite way to where his men were still enjoying the company of their countryfolk.


	15. Chapter 15

Chapter 15

Dol Amroth

January 3017

Lothíriel stared out into the crowd of people. After dancing fifteen dances with ten different men who seemed to all have the same, scripted compliments, she was tired. She had expected a quiet Yule celebration with her family around just as she had as a child, but her father had decided to hold a homecoming ball in her honor during the celebration of the oncoming New Year. It was now after midnight and she longed for the night to end. She watched as the gentleman who had introduced himself as Lord Terrant (or was it Merrent?) approaching her swiftly from across the room. Glancing to her side and saw Erchirion sitting, sipping a glass of wine. After she touched his arm lightly, their eyes connected and he must have seen the need in her eyes for he stood and held out his hand towards her in an obvious invitation.

"I seem to be in need of fresh air, would you do me the pleasure of your company?" Out of the corner of her eye she saw Terrant stop his approach as Erchirion led her out into the gar,dens. When they stood in the quiet darkness, Lothíriel sighed and took a seat on a nearby bench. She took a few moments of silence before looking up at her brother standing before her.

"I don't think I will ever be able to thank you enough for saving me from that hall."

Erchirion shrugged at her words. "I'm sure Father would understand if you decided to leave. It is late and you will have a busy day tomorrow."

Lothíriel nodded. She had requested that Master Hëmond and Amrothos allow her to aid them in the House of Healing. She knew she didn't have the talent like her brother did, but with the injured and sick coming from nearby villages that had been raided by corsairs, the House of Healing needed more hands to heal than they currently had. She knew that at the very least, she could give a little help. Comfort the sick or dying, wrap bandages, coax patients to take their prescribed medicines.

"I know, but Father went to such trouble to arrange this ball. And besides, it will be good practice for when I go to Minas Tirith as Uncle requested." She sighed thinking of the fact that her Uncle had decided it was time for her to be presented at court. Her father had seemed like he wanted to tell her other things as well, but had decided to think better of it. "I don't want to disappoint him."

Erchirion took a seat next to his sister. "Lothíriel," he put his arm around her and pulled her close to him, "Father will understand. You are not used to all this attention, and besides, I'm sure Father is just waiting to end the celebrations when you are finished." He smiled warmly at her and Lothíriel took a deep breath. Erchirion always knew what to say to make her feel at ease.

She nodded. "Just escort me to Father so I do not get waylaid by some other gentleman or knight or lord eager to step on my toes to music." She smiled, and Erchirion let out a small laugh before getting to his feet and offering his hand once again.

* * *

Aldburg

March 3017

Éomer watched as Soulstorm circled around him gracefully. The beautiful mare with her gray coat that was so similar to Firefoot as they both accented the golden morning light. The snow had just begun to melt, and with it, the refugees had decided to head for their former village to work at rebuilding. The winter they had gone through together had not been the easiest but they had all survived and were eager to reclaim their homes. His musings were cut short when he saw Soulstorm's ears and tail flick at the sound of horses approaching from the east.

Following the sound, he was happy to see the herd belonging to the breeders. He hadn't seen Tania since that night in December where their conversation had been cut short by the labor of one of the mares. Soulstorm danced from side to side in anticipation and Éomer had to agree with his horse's excitement. He began to lead the anxious horse to the gates and had only just arrived when the first rider was in front of him. The man who sat atop a chestnut colored horse waved at him with a smile and stepped down.

"Westu hal," Éomer greeted and returned the smile.

"Westu hal, my lord." He bowed to Éomer respectfully. "I would like to request on behalf of Master Talisund that you grant us the use of your fields for a short time before we travel onwards." Éomer nodded at the traditional request and clapped his hand on the man's shoulder as he straightened.

"Most surely, Master Talisund's herd is welcome." By the time he finished, the rest of the group had arrived and waited atop their horses. Éomer spied Tania beside her father and nodded to them. When Talisund inclined his head in return they spread out and began to set up camp with the swiftness of a lifetime of daily practice.

Éomer was in the stables when he heard the familiar voice. "So it seems that my prediction that Soulstorm would do well was correct." Éomer turned around to see Tania standing directly behind him. She looked into his eyes and Éomer couldn't help but give a cursory glance over the curves that were no longer hidden by an apron. Clearing his throat, he turned back to the horse in question and continued rubbing it down.

"Indeed." His eyes fell onto the mother of his fine mare before adding, "Are you here to collect the mare you lent me?" Behind him, Tania sighed with a hint of disappointment in it. Éomer wondered why she was disappointed, but decided that if he needed to know, she would tell him.

"Yes," she finally answered, moving forward into the corner of Éomer's vision. "Father won't have us stay for very long. He has a feeling about going further west. I'm not entirely sure as to why, but you know as well as I never to question someone with my father's talents for prediction." She smiled once more. "Perhaps you could tell me your news tonight before we leave for the plains again?" Éomer nodded and finished with Soulstorm before leading her towards the great hall and a relaxed lunch.

* * *

Near-Harad

June 3017

Na'man stared down at the heavy-handed letters that had arrived from Dol Amroth only days ago. The Oracle had arrived home over six months ago and he was only just now hearing about it? What had his spies been doing all this time? He carefully folded up the piece of paper before exiting his tent. When he stood outside, he surveyed the area around him. Equal parts of yellowed grass and sand covered the plains of his homeland. All around him his army stood ready for the impending battle with the warriors of a rival tribe. There was no doubt in his mind that the battle would be short lived, his men outnumbered their enemy ten to one. Unusually, he was glad of the upcoming easy battle. Normally he preferred something of a challenge, but he already had a challenge waiting for him across his borders in Gondor.

He was eager to return to the city of Târêt and begin making plans for the capture of what would be his greatest of prizes. Even though he knew he would never be able to own her like he had so many other women before her, the idea of holding her as his own was enticing. Not only was it good luck to have an Oracle in your city, but it was also known that the gods blessed those who held onto the rarities.

Yes, he would conquer this tribe and return to make plans. He would have to be much more careful in his choice of who to send. After the last slip up the Oracle had gone beyond even Na'man's reach for seven years. Perhaps Yusraa would be willing to aid him. He believed that the enchantress was skilled enough to work her magic over such a distance, he would see for himself though. No matter what, in the end he would have the Oracle brought to Târêt to serve him and the gods.

* * *

Dol Amroth

September 3017

Lothíriel stared into the now dead eyes of the fisherman. An accident had occurred while he was out at sea that had given him several deep cuts. Amrothos had not spent very long with the man before declaring gently that there was no hope – he had lost too much blood – to be saved. It was then that Lothíriel had approached the man and held his hands, waiting as the life ebbed away. She knew she should have expected to see death, and had known that this man was going to die, but every time she looked into those eyes, she couldn't help the chill that overtook her. She could feel her body beginning to shake as two people came to carry away the body. Lothíriel continued to sit and stare and shake.

"I remember how difficult it was the first time I saw someone die." Amrothos' voice was nearly a whisper as he came around and took a seat on the flat surface that was the man's final bed. "It was a mother who was giving birth to twins. She had died in the midst of a delivery, but I knew that if I cut her open, I could save the children. Although it was not any fault of mine that she died, for the longest time, I blamed myself for her death. Maybe if there was something I had done earlier, but there was nothing. Some of the healers tried to console me by explaining that the mother would have been happy just knowing her little ones had lived and were being looked after." Lothíriel remembered seeing Amrothos playing with a boy and a girl who had looked very similar to each other in the town. He had given some money and food to their father before receiving warm and loving hugs from the children.

"Ultimately," continued Amrothos, "we need to remember that death is something that is as natural as life, and it is not your fault that he died. It is also fine to take a few moments to remember the people who have died in respect. But if there is one thing we must always remember, it is that the dead cannot hear our tears, only the living. And the living are affected by seeing those we care about hurt by the dead." He stood and held out his hand to Lothíriel as support. When she stood he kissed her gently on her forehead before leading her to another room where a boy, no older than twelve sat with a series of small cuts and bruises as well as a broken leg. "This is Amlaith, a young man who fell off a horse into a wild rosebush and then had the misfortune of stepping of a short cliff while the tide was still low." He strode forward and ruffled the boy's hair. Amlaith, indignant to be treated like a child, pushed his hand away from him.

"Leave me alone," Amlaith huffed slightly. Lothíriel could see him eyeing her under his now messy hair.

Amrothos let out a quiet laugh before turning back to Lothíriel. "Do you think you could see to it that he has some company for a bit before we finish for the day?" He waited for Lothíriel to nod before smiling at the boy patiently. "Now you behave, you're in the presence of a real lady." With that, he exited the room, closing the door behind him. Lothíriel took a seat on a stool that sat beside the bed and looked at the boy who was looking at her with a mixture of awe and anxiousness.

"Well," Lothíriel began, "will you tell me a little bit about yourself?" She smiled encouragingly.

"There's not much to tell. My Ma and Pa are traders and I wanted to help so I decided to go to the next village over, but I was tossed off by my horse before I even left town. I got lost in the woods and ended up falling off a cliff, that's all there is to tell." The boy sounded impatient. "I want to go home."

"I'm sure you'll be able to go home sometime soon. What do your parents trade?" Lothíriel noticed a spark within Amlaith's eyes for a moment.

"Ma mades necklaces and bracelets out of things from the sea, like that necklace you're wearing." He indicated Lothíriel's pearl pendant Meira had sent her for Yule while she was in Rivendell. "And Pa is able to pan salt from the sea better than anyone. He said that in a year, when I become a man, he'll teach me all his secrets and tricks!" He was getting excited.

Lothíriel smiled at Amlaith, "Salt is one of the things that makes Dol Amroth very well off. I'm glad to hear we have someone who is so skilled at panning it, and soon we'll have two of them as well." Amlaith blushed slightly. "But, if you want to start without needing a crutch to walk, you're going to have to stay here until you're well. It wouldn't do to have your leg infected and have to come back for a longer stay would it? Have either of your parents been told that you're here?" The boy nodded his head.

"Pa brought me. He's the one that found me after I fell off the cliff. My horse ended up finding its way back home." He looked down. "Pa said that if I hadn't broken my leg, I'd get a right thrashing for taking the horse without asking or telling where I was going."

"Well," Lothíriel placed her hand on his arm, "I'm sure that they were just worried about you. Your father won't be upset with you for very long I imagine." He looked up at her and a look of recognition passed over his face.

"Are you the princess?" He asked quietly. Lothíriel nodded, holding the smile in place, waiting to see how he would react. She didn't have to wait for very long. The negativity about his parents' disappointment was replaced by an intense curiosity and excitement. "Is it true that you lived with the elves? What were they like? Are their ears really pointed?"

Lothíriel's smile became more relaxed as she answered his questions. "I did stay with them. The elves are a quiet and musical people and very wise. And yes, their ears are pointed." She thought back on Glorfindel and Arvellon and the rest of the elves who she had left behind. "If you take care of yourself and listen to your mother and father I will introduce you to one of my friends who is an elf when he comes to visit."

"Really?" his voice had been brought down to a whisper as if they were sharing a secret.

"Yes," she lowered her voice and brought her face closer to his own, "and if you ask nicely he will play his harp and sing for you."

"What about you?" Amlaith asked.

"What do you mean?" Lothíriel sat back up.

"Can you sing?" He watched her in anticipation. When she nodded he sat up straighter and began begging her to sing a song. Lothíriel thought about how her harp was sitting up in her chamber but decided she could manage a song for the boy without it. After settling him down by telling him she would do as he requested, she sat up as straight as a rod and began a song she had heard the elves singing about the sea.

_The grey lady who graces our shores,_

_Has carried us all to this land._

_Our hearts lie with her, coated in salt,_

_Our feet are buried in sand_.

_Oh, the sea, the sea!_

_Our hearts pine in longing._

_It calls us home again and again,_

_To go with the sun's setting._

_The stars reflect off her glassy surface,_

_Her face has no equal in beauty._

_Her temper is not one to be provoked,_

_For none other than the Valar are as mighty._

_Oh, the sea, the sea!_

_Our heart's pine in longing._

_It calls us home again and again,_

_To go with the sun's setting._

_Our hearts and our minds will never forget,_

_Our longing for her sweet touch._

_If you pay attention to the signs she gives,_

_She will keep you safe from darkness' clutch._

_Oh, the sea, the sea!_

_Our hearts pine in longing._

_It calls us home again and again._

_To go with the sun's setting._

_The love of our lady has no end,_

_Our dreams of her we cannot pen._

_We long evermore for the salty grey shores,_

_Until we finally sail West once again_.

Lothíriel finished her song and noticed that the entire house of healing had grown quiet around her. She turned and saw some of the elderly and sick who could stand had come to the doorway, listening to her music. She felt her face heat and excused herself from the room, bidding to Amlaith that she would return another day to see how he was.

She walked slowly out of House of Healing and each person who had heard her simply stared at her, mute, but wearing an expression of peace. Some of the people reached out and touched her lightly as if to check if she were truly standing before them and not some unearthly ghost. Finally, she exited the building and hastened her steps towards the castle where she could hide in her chamber and let the embarrassment pass.

**A/N: The way you pronounce Na'man is na-a-men and Yusraa is easy enough with a trailing ah sound.**


	16. Chapter 16

Chapter 16

Edoras

December 3017

Théodred sat in Meduseld's library, absorbing the quiet. All around him, the smell of old parchment and leather collided into what he imagined peacefulness to smell like. He like peace, longed for it, but he had a feeling that he would never be able to have any except for in fleeting moments like this. It would be Yule very soon and right after that he had to depart. First he would head west to continue in guarding his lands, and when the spring came, onto Gondor.

It had only been by chance that he had received the letter before Gríma had been able to get his slippery hands on the thing. He knew, before his illness had taken over, his father had been in talks with the current Steward of Gondor on negotiating a marriage. Théodred had only just found out that the marriage being negotiated was his own. The feeling that it had been kept from him infuriated him for a moment before he calmed himself with the logical answer. His father most likely wished to make sure everything would go well before notifying his son. The only person to blame for his ignorance thus far was Gríma Wormtongue.

After reading the details in the letter, Théodred agreed with Lord Denethor's plan. He would go to Gondor when the princess was in Minas Tirith and the two would meet. So long as the princess did not have any objections to the Rohirric Prince, the two would proceed with plans towards marriage. And it was not as if he had anyone else in mind to take the title of wife. Théodred didn't like the idea of marriage when Gríma was still lurking around Edoras, but perhaps he could settle his new wife in the Hornburg. Then he would also be able to see her more while doing his duty in the West and all the while she would be out of reach of Gríma Wormtongue.

He nodded to himself and began to make plans. Was he anticipating marriage? He was nearly forty years old and it would do well to have heirs to follow after him. He nodded to himself again. Perhaps it would do him well to have a wife and children to worry over him. He was cut off from his thoughts when he heard someone enter. He turned his gaze and saw Éomer standing in the doorway.

"Now, how did I know I would find you trapped in here, cousin?" Éomer stepped forward and met Théodred in a quick embrace. The two men stood apart and studied each other as was their custom. "I see you have a new scar. Who got past your guard?"

Théodred touched the white line on his neck that had healed nearly a year ago. "A dunlending who seemed especially thirsty for my blood." He chuckled lightly before patting Éomer's shoulder. "I have heard that you are not unscathed yourself."

Éomer nodded. "Indeed, this wound on my leg was particularly troublesome. An orc stabbed me during an ambush and I didn't know until it had already been stitched up that there he had coated the steel in black water. But now it is on the mend finally. Perhaps we're not as invulnerable as we had thought we were as children." Éomer's last sentence brought back the thought of Théodred's possible children and he couldn't help his smile. "How goes the West-Mark?"

"It's as well as it could be, though I am as anxious to return, as I am for the battles to all be over and done with so I don't have to return as often." Éomer's somber expression gave way and nodded silently. Théodred was about to continue when a noise caused both men to look directly in front of them and saw Éowyn running towards the two with her arms outstretched.

"Éomer! Théodred! I only just returned from my ride, and heard you were here!" Éowyn's cheeks were red from the cool air outside and her hair was in tangles. She was wearing her typical leather riding clothes and gloves that showed the colors of dry earth. She stood and looked behind her where her maid was following quietly. "I must bathe before the celebrations for Yule begin, but I look forward to claiming a dance with both of you tonight." She smiled gleefully before retreating back towards her chamber where most likely a bath was already waiting.

Éomer clapped his hand over Théodred's shoulder before declaring, "I believe I should follow suit. It would not do well to have me smelling of horse, leather and sweat during Yule. I believe Éowyn would have my head." Théodred watched Éomer followed the same path as his sister only stopping to order a bath from a nearby servant. The two siblings were so alike that Théodred couldn't help smiling to himself before returning to the peaceful library for a few more minutes of solitude.

* * *

Dol Amroth

January 3018

Lothíriel stared down at the sleeping baby. His delivery had been difficult but once he was born, Lothíriel could see that everything she had seen in her vision as a child was true. It was the first time she had ever seen one of her visions come to pass and she had to admit that the experience was strange to say the least. He'd had an exciting day for his first birthday. A ball would be held in his honor even though he wouldn't be there to see it this year. She turned her gaze to Meira who stood beside Lothíriel and smiled. After they exited the nursery and quietly shut the door, Lothíriel held out a soft square of blue fabric to her sister in law.

"I know it passed several days ago but I wanted to give you this as your Yule present before going into the celebrations." Meira took the fabric and Lothíriel watched her study it. Lothíriel had spent nearly a month making the silk handkerchief with Meira's favorite flower, a white iris, embroidered into each corner.

"Oh Lothíriel!" Meira gasped, tears beginning to fill her eyes. "It's so beautiful. And the details!" She reached out and the two hugged each other.

"You mustn't cry. It wouldn't be well to have us both entering the hall with red-rimmed eyes." She kissed her sister's cheek. "Come, we mustn't delay much longer. Father and Elphir must be wondering what's keeping us." Lothíriel led Meira down the corridor and the two arrived before the entrance quickly. Through the closed door music and jovial conversation could be heard. After nodding to the man standing guard, the door was opened.

Lothíriel felt the eyes of most of the people fall upon her, but after so many balls, she was used to it. She took her place besides her father while Meira stood beside Elphir. He reached over, taking his wife's hand before pulling her to the dance floor. Lothíriel smiled to herself as she watched them staring up into each other's eyes lovingly.

"I suppose it would be foolish of me to wish to have a love like that in my marriage." She sighed under her breath. She had thought her father would not have heard her mutterings but he raised his eyebrows.

"That is the very reason for the balls, so that you might find someone of your liking before departing for Minas Tirith." Her father's words triggered Lothíriel's expression to become hard and solemn as she recalled her father finally explaining what was awaiting her in Minas Tirith. She remembered the bitter tears and Erchirion's angry shouting. The only thing that had soothed him was Amrothos and Elphir's explanations that they could not fight their uncle's decrees. Even then, Erchirion had declared he would find some way to fight against, in his words, 'a mere steward's rule.' Tonight he had joined the festivities but he had dark circles under his eyes from the late nights and early mornings of research. It had been months and he had still found nothing. Lothíriel had eventually come to the same conclusion her father had. She needed to find someone who she at least liked that she could see any future with.

She'd had very little luck with that. Her suitors each had something about them that made Lothíriel feel they were not suitable. One of them spent the each conversation with her by simply complimenting her without any kind of intelligent conversation, while on the other hand, one man was so full of himself he had declared that she needed to go through a few changes to deserve him, but he was willing to help her so that they could have a happy marriage. Each time, she found something, and once it was pinpointed, it never really went away. A series of thoughtless comments on Lothíriel's inferiority as a woman, never speaking, always speaking, acting too superior, acting on false humility. There was always something.

She spent the night dancing, pinpointing these traits over and over again. It had become a sort of game to her and she wondered if she would ever grow to like anyone if she didn't stop playing. Eventually, as was fairly common, people stopped asking her to dance. Women gossiped about her even while in earshot. She was called all sorts of names: cold, heartless, impolite, fake. Lothíriel left the hall for the gardens and retreated within the hedge maze she had memorized as a child. Sitting on a bench in the middle, she finally let the tears fall down her cheeks.

She hated herself for crying, but she couldn't stop them anymore, not when the eyes were finally off her. She smiled at the irony. When she had left, the townspeople had seemed to hate her and she had created a stoney façade for them, but now that she had grown up with the elves and their kindness, it had faded and she had no defense against gossiping lips and hateful eyes. She heard footsteps approaching her through the maze and Lothíriel wiped the tears from her cheeks and sat up straighter. When she saw who rounded the corner she sighed and allowed her shoulders to fall forward again.

"I knew you would retreat to this spot. You always did as a little girl." Meira's calm face was too much for Lothíriel and she let out a sob and covered her face in her hands and she cried anew. Lothíriel didn't know how long she had cried, but Meira remained by her side, gently rubbing her back and saying soothing words under her breath. Eventually Lothíriel collected herself and Meira held forth the very handkerchief that had been presented to her only hours before.

"Who knew that you'd have to use it so soon." Lothíriel commented ironically. She wiped her tear stained face gently before handing the fabric back to Meira. "I'm sorry if I ruined it. I could make you another one if you'd like." Meira responded by taking the fabric and holding it to her chest.

"Any gifts you give to me I will cherish forever, but this is a wonderful gift." Meira smiled and wiped another tear that had fallen onto her cheek. "You know," she started in the tone that she normally used when she was trying to convince Elphir of a logical point he was ignoring, "have you considered that you might actually like this Prince Théodred? I know that we have heard very little about him, but you never know, he might end up being the man for you."

Lothíriel shrugged, "I remember a maid in Rohan speaking of him fondly but not the exact praises." Meira smiled encouragingly.

"See," she began, "that's something. And you did mention that you had grown to like Rohan during your travels and studies. Perhaps you were drawn to the country for a reason."

"Perhaps," Lothíriel echoed to herself quietly.

"But for now, you should go to your chamber. We can go through the servant's stairs so no one disturbs us." Lothíriel nodded at Meira's suggestion and followed the lovely woman.

* * *

Dol Amroth

March 3018

Lothíriel looked down at the trunk that now had a few months worth of clothes, jewelry and other items she had not wanted to part with even for a little while. In her hands she held the one piece of jewelry that she had never wanted to wear again. It was the circlet with the cold white stone. She stared at it for a long while before placing it gently atop the trunk. She forced herself to look away leave the chamber. Ever since she had worn it the first time several years ago, whenever she looked at it, she got the feeling she was not the only one in the room, like someone was looking at her with it. The thought always made her shiver.

And now she would have to wear it constantly while in Minas Tirith. Or perhaps not. She wondered if it would be possible to convince her Uncle that she had learned to control her gift enough to not need the circlet. A small spark of hope enlightened within her as she began to step down the corridor more confidently. By the time she made it to the ship, she was actually looking forward to seeing Minas Tirith and her Uncle again.

The ship that would carry them up the Anduin was a much smaller vessel than the one that had brought her home from the Greyflood. It was to be expected as the Anduin'w waters were much gentler than the open seas. She knew that most of her family would be joining her on this excursion except for Erchirion.

Looking out, she saw Elphir carrying Alphos and talking to him with a smile. To his side was Meira, who was in the midst of laughter when she spotted Lothíriel. She gave a small wave before turning back to her husband and son. Lothíriel turned away again, a strange feeling in her heart. She tried to place it but couldn't think of why it hurt to look at her brother and sister in law so happy. The words she had said during the last ball in January came back to her from the back of her mind. 'I suppose it would be foolish of me to wish to have a love like that in my marriage.' She was stunned when it hit her. She was jealous of their happiness and the deep love and connection they shared.

After that ball, she had confronted her father with the fact that she had resigned herself to marrying the Crown Prince of Rohan, and would most likely close the door to a marriage based on love. She consoled both herself and her father with the fact that she remembered most of the news concerning the Prince that came from either the Rohirrim when she had traveled through Rohan as a child or from her Uncle Denethor himself, was full of praise. After hearing the news, her father had canceled the last ball that would have been her final chance before going to Minas Tirith where the certainty of a royal engagement awaited her.

* * *

Minas Tirith

March 3018

Théodred looked into the face of the Steward who had so meticulously arranged his marriage with the Princess who would be arriving in the White City within the week. He seemed to be very old, but his eyes were still fully alive and filled with a cunning ambition that made Théodred feel very ill at ease. The two continued to trade looks for a long while, the heavy silence filling the cold, stone room. Finally, the Steward of Gondor opened his mouth.

"How good it is for you to have made it, Prince Théodred!" His voice was cheerful, but behind it a tone of iron. "I have anticipated this visit for some time now, and look forward to our increased relations after your union with my niece."

"Indeed," Théodred's voice was calm, belying his unease. "I look forward to Gondor and Rohan reuniting under a banner of friendship and camaraderie. I unfortunately, cannot stay for very long after meeting the princess as my lands still need to be protected." A strange look crossed Denethor's face before it was overcome by one of understanding and compassion.

"Certainly, my lord, for I have come to know that the land of the Horselords has been faced with many difficulties as of late. I can only hope that you look after our dear Princess Lothíriel with the same tenacity that you show your country." Théoden felt himself bristle at the Steward's inclination.

"I can assure you, Lord Denethor, if she should accept the role as my wife and future queen of Rohan, then she will want for nothing as far as I can give." He focused on the stone chair that the steward was sitting on.

Denethor was about to continue speaking when the door opened. Théodred turned to see who had entered and spotted a young man, garbed in the silver armor of a Gondorian soldier. The soldier waited for some indication that he could speak and when he did, he bowed deeply in the direction of the two men.

"My lords," his voice was deep but still held some of the tones of a boy, "Lord Boromir has called me to report that the ship from Dol Amroth has arrived. He went to escort them into the city and they should be ready to present themselves to you this evening."

"Excellent!" Denethor's voice echoed through the hall for a moment. "It seems that luck is on our side this day as you will have the chance to meet Princess Lothíriel later this eve. I will have a servant show you to your quarters where you can rest and clean yourself if you wish." He gave a shaded smile before exiting to whatever task he felt needed doing. Within a minute, a young boy approached and led him through the maze of corridors to his chambers. Théodred thanked the boy before sending him on his way and turning to look out the window at the distant silhouettes of a small party riding across the Pelennor Fields.


	17. Chapter 17

Chapter 17

Minas Tirith

March 3018

Lothíriel heard him before seeing his face. His voice was the same as she had heard the last time she was in Minas Tirith. She straightened her dress and checked that her pinned up hair was still in place before coming into view. The party from Dol Amroth had only arrived a few hours ago but as surely as the tide, her uncle would not be wasting any time to see to it that she would arrive on time to his dinner, where she would meet her future husband.

"My dear Lothíriel!" He sounded happy to see her until a strange look crossed over his face. "Why are you not wearing the circlet I gave to you the last time you were here? I believe I stated that you would wear it whenever you were in Minas Tirith." His jovial tone had been replaced almost instantly with a more serious one. She looked to her father for a moment for guidance. She swallowed before descending fully into the light.

"Hello, Uncle," she started. She felt her voice beginning to falter but cleared her throat before speaking. "I felt it would be unnecessary seeing as I can control my gift now. I was very well taught in Rivendell." Denethor raised his eyes slightly and put a glass of dark wine to his lips, holding the glass in place for what felt like an eternity.

"I went to a lot of trouble to get that circlet made for you," his voice was barely above a whisper when he spoke. "And besides, it's not just for your visions, but to denote that you are gifted at all. I expected you to be wearing it." He placed the drink down onto a nearby table before taking a step towards her. "You at least brought it here with you?" Lothíriel felt as if the room was being drained of air as she nodded. "Good!" His tone was joyful again as he turned away. "Hurry and have it put on, and do try to be quick about it. You are making the Crown Prince of Rohan wait for us."

Lothíriel's shoulders hunched forward slightly. While they had traveled on the boat, she had tried it on again and had felt the same coldness emanating from the stone that she had felt as a child. The feeling made her nauseous and sent chills up and down her spine. Turning back to the stairs she eventually reached the door to her room. It took all of her will to open the chest and even look at the silver circlet with the pure white gem. With a shaking hand, she pulled it out into the open. Behind her a maid stepped forward and put it in place, being careful not to mess up her elaborate hairstyle. She had to focus entirely on keeping a face that showed calm.

When she rejoined the group at the bottom of the stairs, a look of satisfaction crossed her uncle's face as he reached out and placed her hand in the crook of his arm. The two of them took the lead as they walked up the quiet streets towards Denethor's home. After making sure that the others were far back enough not to be overheard, he began to whisper into her ear, several of the words came out more like the hiss of a snake.

"You are going to behave like a true princess of Gondor, do you hear me?" She gave a slight nod and he continued. "I have had reports as to how you have been disdainful towards suitors in Dol Amroth and I will not accept any of that behavior here in the company of the Prince. I will not have you ruining all this effort and planning simply because you don't wish to be wed." She looked at him cautiously and he still went on, "It would be a shame if Dol Amroth was called to the front, wouldn't it?" He let the threat hang in the air. Lothíriel would have stopped moving if Denethor hadn't gripped her hand, that was securely in his arm, so tightly. "You will not do anything to mess it up and you will accept this marriage, am I understood?" Lothíriel nodded again, fighting the chills running through her body as the party made it into the candlelight.

* * *

"There she is, my bright-eyed cousin!" Boromir's booming voice echoed throughout the marbled hall. Théodred turned his gaze towards the door, following after Boromir as figures emerged from the night's shadow. It did not take long for him to spot his intended as she was at the head of the party with Denethor. Upon making eye contact, she let go of her uncle's arm and strode forward. She looked in body to be no older that twenty, but if he were to judge by her facial expression, he would venture to guess that she had seen too much sorrow for one so young.

"My lady," he bent forward into a deep bow, reaching out and taking her tiny, delicate hand in his own. "What a privilege it is to finally be able to meet you. I am Théodred, firstborn son of Théoden King of the Riddermark." When he straightened Lothíriel gave a small smile that didn't reach her eyes before introducing herself formally as well.

"My lord," she began, nodding her head rather than bowing, "I am Princess Lothíriel, the only daughter of Prince Imrahil of Dol Amroth. I am glad to make your acquaintance." She took back her hand gently before stepping forward towards the food-laden table. Théodred made sure Lothíriel was settled before taking his own seat beside her. The group ate and exchanged conversation. Every once in a while, Denethor would ask a question regarding Rohan and Lothíriel would watch his response carefully, as if determining something about his character. Whenever he asked anything about Dol Amroth, she would give vague answers while keeping her attention on her uncle. After the meal, Théodred stood, holding his hand out to the Princess.

"Would you care to take a stroll through the gardens? It will give us a chance to get to know each other better as well as ease our full stomachs." Lothíriel took his hand in response and followed him out of the hall. The night air was cool but not as cool as in the north. He offered her his cloak but she casually shook her head.

"When I spent my time with the elves," she commented at length, "I grew used to the cooler weather. One of the elves actually made a prediction that I would find Gondor too warm after my time in the North, and I must admit it to be true." A wistful look passed over her face as the couple reached a large fountain that mirrored the moon overhead.

"In Rohan, the winds blow so consistently that it is strange to be outdoors with the air so still. Do you miss living in the North?" His question brought her face round and he studied her quietly.

"When I lived with the elves I couldn't keep from thinking about Dol Amroth and my family. Now that I am returned to them, I miss Rivendell so terribly that I cannot imagine why I wanted to return home. Perhaps I will never be satisfied." She chuckled to herself.

"Maybe you need to be somewhere in between the two." He began but as he continued, his words became quieter still, more private. "Rohan, for example, is in the North and close enough to both places that you could visit once the roads have been made safe once again."

She touched his arm and moved past him, her feet crunching on the gravel path. "I wonder if that would suit me." She took a seat on the edge of the fountain, dipping a finger into the water. "How are things in Rohan these days?"

"Along the east and the west trouble grows steadily like a tree on the edge of a river. I do my best to keep the people of my country safe but somehow, as if someone is able to read our plans before we even hatch them, we are outmaneuvered. Many good men have died during their time as Riders of Rohan." His thoughts went back to when he held a boy of only seventeen in his arms as the life had drained out of him after an attack.

"Dol Amroth has been fairly lucky." Lothíriel's eyes were turned to the river as she surveyed the path it took back to her home. "My father had the thought to work at keeping the sea-going villains from our shores with the construction of the Beleg Gwî. I wonder how many times we would have been sieged if he hadn't thought ahead so well." She sighed lightly, "Perhaps before we are to be wed, you could come to Dol Amroth and see it, for it is a marvel to behold."

"I doubt that I would be able to make such a trip with all the duties of a Marshal calling upon me. It took a great amount of planning to be able to make it to Minas Tirith at all, and I must be on my way back before the week's end." He watched as she sighed again, a sad look in her eyes and the corner of her mouth caused him to wonder. "Is this marriage something that you do not want? If so, I'm sure I could negotiate something with Lord Denethor." A look a fear passed over Lothíriel's face as she turned her gaze to him.

"Do you not wish to marry me? Is there someone who you have left your heart with back in Rohan?" She watched with a mix of fear and anticipation at his answer.

"My heart belongs to the people of my country but not to any individual. Is there someone in Dol Amroth who holds your heart?" She simply shook her head.

"My heart belongs to no man. I have been reminded that it is my duty to marry for the good of my country and should be honored at the prospect of marrying into your family line. I do not mean any insult to you, but I am afraid. I am afraid that should I marry you, I will lose the chance to find the one that I love. I am afraid that should I not marry you, I will lose something else even more dear to me in the present." A single tear fell onto her cheek and she lifter her hand to wipe it away.

"I know that we barely know each other, but I will promise you this," he grasped Lothíriel's hand in his own, "I will see to it that you are as happy as any woman has right to be. I will make sure you are safe and secure and in time, we will have children to hold our hearts. I will be your friend and confidant so long as you can trust me with the things that weigh your heart down."

* * *

Lothíriel looked down at the hand that held hers. A second tear fell as she imagined all the futures she had for herself. She saw a future where she was greeted by little children with lighter shades of hair than her own and seas of green and yellow grass. She imagined wandering the halls of Dol Amroth alone, not knowing the horrors her father and brothers would face on the front. She imagined meeting a man who was everything she could have ever wanted, but never being able to do anything but look at him from a distance as another man's wife.

She imagined and imagined and then, something that hadn't happened in years occurred. Without any warning, a vision came upon her. Instantly she cleared her mind and allowed it to flow through her, but she was lost in the area between consciousness and had to fight to remain sitting. She allowed nothing to exist but what she saw.

She saw a river, flowing red and black with the blood of both men and orcs. She was seeing things through the eyes of a dying orc, and the pain of the spear jutting out of her chest was almost unbearable. She saw, standing over her, the image of Théodred holding that very spear. He smiled bitterly and surveyed his victory at the river as a man came up to his side.

"My lord, we should return to Helm's Deep. You must prepare to return to Edoras for your wedding." The bitter smile became sweeter as he nodded to the man. "We will first see to it that the carcasses of these vile creatures are burned and our comrades who fell today are honored in their deaths." The men nodded, saluting their Marshal as he passed into the crowd and out of sight.

She felt her arms being pulled as she was carted towards a growing pile of bodies. As the men worked at starting the blaze, she could hear them speaking. "Can you believe that they came from Isengard? It leads you to wonder what the Wizard is doing."

"I wonder the same thing," another pitched in, "seeing as they bear the white hand on their crests and armor."

"It's only thanks to our prince that we made it to the Fords of Isen before they had been gathering here too long. Imagine, if they had been settled before the snows melting. We would have been taken completely unawares."

"I don't know," the first spoke up again, "our prince has something to live for if you ask me. I was in Gondor when he met the Princess, and I have never seen such a beauty in my life."

"Don't let your wife ever hear you say such words," another laughed.

"Is that all of them?" An older voice interrupted them.

"I think so." The first answered. With that, Lothíriel felt a searing heat and came back to reality.

The first thing she noticed was that Théodred was no longer sitting beside her, but was squatting before her, holding her steadily by the shoulders to keep her from falling back into the pool of water. "My lady?" His eyebrows were knit together in confusion and worry. "Are you unwell? My cousin who escorted you to Edoras as a child commented to my father on the fact that you had fainted after a long ride. Perhaps the day has been to stressful with all the travel you have endured."

"Perhaps so," Lothíriel agreed as she sat straighter, keeping the vision to herself. She knew from the conversation she had heard what her answer would be at that moment. "I apologize if I seem out of sorts, but I believe that I will accept your proposal." She stood with his help and he made sure she was steady before allowing her to walk about freely.

"I am glad to hear it. Rohan will be blessed to have someone like you as their future queen, I am sure." He smiled and escorted her back to the hall. The news of Lothíriel's consent came as little surprise to most in the room, especially Denethor, but Lothíriel smiled cooly at the congratulations he offered her and Théodred. The group began to converse until Denethor called for the evening to end.

"Théodred will have an early morning with me tomorrow to set about writing out the contract of their marriage. Perhaps you would be settled with an afternoon outing?" Denethor's voice spoke clearly as he shot looks at those who would interject something other than agreement. Théodred nodded.

"I believe that will be best, and you, my lady," he turned to Lothíriel, "are clearly exhausted after your journey, so you should rest." He bent over her hand, kissing it again, missing the pointed looks Lothíriel received from her family. She shrugged and looked away before bidding the prince good night and following her family out onto the streets of Minas Tirith that would lead to the Dol Amroth townhouse.

* * *

Lothíriel sat carefully on her bed and stared at the circlet in her hands. She had barely waited until her family had entered the house before tearing the thing off her head and rushing up to her room, ignoring the calls over her wellbeing. There was a knocking sound at her door, but after a few minutes of silence from Lothíriel, they left, leaving her to her thoughts.

What bothered her was the fact that she had no warning before having the vision. On the way home it had struck her that she had been wearing the circlet for long enough that she hadn't noticed the discomfort of a vision because her entire body was already feeling strange because of the white stone. She touched it warily, but it wasn't deadly cold like it always was whenever it touched her forehead. She sighed, standing and beginning to pace slowly.

So long as she wore this circlet, she would never know if she would be in danger of seeing anything. She wouldn't be able to excuse herself to allow the vision access. She had barely remained conscious when she had seen Théodred's future, and what would she have done if he hadn't been there to steady her from falling in the fountain? Imagined scenes of Lothíriel fainting again while she was at dinner with her uncle, as she walked about town, in front of the other ladies and lords of the court.

She shook her head, placing down the circlet heavily. The answer was simple. Her family had achieved its task in coming to Minas Tirith. Now they could leave. As soon as the prince left for his homeland, she would be on a ship away from this city and her uncle. She nodded to herself. She could handle a few more days with the circlet, the main thing was, that she saw an end to it.


	18. Chapter 18

Chapter 18

Minas Tirith

March 3018

Lothíriel rose with the dawn. It was not odd for the princess to be awake so early, but the servants in Minas Tirith clearly were not prepared. She had dressed herself in a simple maroon linen dress and fastened a warm hooded cloak about her shoulders before leaving the room. As she was exiting, her eyes were drawn to the white stone - it seemed to be staring at her. But ignoring it, she turned away. Surely her uncle would not be awake at such hours, nor really, most of the nobility living in Minas Tirith.

Closing the door quietly behind her, she walked silently past her father's and brothers' doors, careful not to wake them. Eventually she made her way to the breakfast table and the maids bustled around, nervous at the Princess's presence. After a few minutes a small tray was brought from the kitchens. On it, the typical heavy Gondorian breakfast that contained so much food she couldn't image anyone ever being able to finish it. She simply ate a single roll of bread and some fruit before sending the tray back so Cook could reuse the food to feed the rest of her family.

She was just about to leave the house when she heard movement behind her. Coming down the stairs was Amrothos, donned in healer's garb. The servants seemed to be prepared for his early arrival and didn't bring out the tray they had served Lothíriel but a roll of bread with cheese and a few slices of meat cleverly stuffed inside. He thanked the maid who handed it to him before he turned his gaze towards his sister.

"Good morning, little sister," he smiled and kissed her cheek fondly. "Where are you off to before the birds break into full song?"

"I thought to explore a bit before anyone woke. I'd like to see what the White City looks like when there aren't so many people about." Amrothos chuckled lightly at Lothíriel's words.

"As if there's so many people in Minas Tirith now?" He shook his head to himself before saying, "If your meeting with Théodred doesn't go well, you can always come and tell me. I'll be in the healing houses." He bid her farewell and she did the same, leaving the house at the same time as him, but going in a different direction.

She wandered throughout deserted streets that were so quiet it seemed that they might be graveyards rather than mansions for the wealthy and nobility. Eventually she reached the stables and strolled between the stalls. The Rohirrim's horses were stabled there and when she approached, they all turned their large, intelligent eyes in her direction. She went slowly towards them, speaking quietly in Sindarin, explaining who she was and that she was honored to be in their presence. They stared at her for a few more moments before looking away, bored.

She smiled to herself and stopped by a stall that housed a large stallion. He was the color of burnt wood with a single streak of white between his eyes. She greeted the mighty creature and picked up some dried slices of carrot that had been left by whoever met with the horses. At the sight of her possession of such a treasure, the stallion's ears pricked forward, paying close attention to Lothíriel's hands. Holding out two slices the horse wasted no time before relieving her of their weight.

"He likes you." The deep voice startled Lothíriel which caused her to drop the remaining slices from her other hand. She bent down to pick them from the ground and another pair of hands joined her. She looked up in amazement when she saw that it was Prince Théodred before her.

"My lord," she said, scrambling to stand but he halted her with a smile and raised hand.

"Do not be alarmed, I merely came to check on Brego." He indicated the horse Lothíriel had been feeding. "I was a bit surprised when I saw he was behaving for you without me present. Even in Rohan, I usually have to be the one to look after him or else one of the poor stable boys will be kicked or bitten." He stood, offering a hand to help Lothíriel to join him.

As she took it she turned her attention back to the horse. "He is very beautiful." Lothíriel's voice was so quiet that if they had not been alone in the stables, she doubted that Théodred would have ever heard it in the first place. She cleared her throat after a few more silent moments. "Aren't you and my Uncle planning to draw up the contract for our marriage?"

"Later this morning, but he seems to not be as early a riser as you and I. I figured I would have time to come here without ruining his schedule. Though, afterwards, I believe I should be on my way back to Rohan. While I'm sure it would be a pleasure to spend the afternoon riding with you, I believe that it would be best to not remain for much longer. Truly, I would have liked to stay and know you better before our wedding, but I'm sure we will get along fairly well."

Lothíriel smiled and nodded, "I'm sure that your people are proud to have a prince who puts his own needs after that of his people. I understand." Then, as a thought struck her, she continued. "What of the marriage contract, surely if cannot be written in a single morning?"

He shook his head. "Certainly not. I will make sure that Rohan's stipulations for the marriage are made clear and I will have to leave everything else up to your uncle. It is not ideal, but at least, after the ceremony, our friendship with Gondor will be strengthened and anything else we require may be requested without much fuss."

Lothíriel saw the sense in that statement and was about to continue when she heard footsteps passing beyond the doorway of the stables. She wondered how long she had been here and stepped away from the Rohirric Prince, her eyes anxiously looking to the door. "I probably should go, my father will be waking up soon and he'll be wondering where I am."

Théodred smiled slightly and before she could get further away, he caught her hand. "I hope that you will be well until I can return for you, my lady. Farewell," he bent over her hand and kissed the back of it lightly. She nodded her farewell and turned towards the exit.

Lothíriel picked up her skirts and hurriedly strode out of the stables and back to her home. The streets, though still fairly quiet, were no longer empty. Servants and a few soldiers walked up and down the roadways paying Lothíriel little attention. It wasn't long before she was back in the familiar townhouse. She could hear her father's voice speaking quietly in the dining room. Taking a route that went around the room, she made her way to her chamber.

Taking a seat, she let out a heavy sigh she had been withholding ever since exiting the stables. She had not expected to meet with anyone, let along the Crown Prince of Rohan, that morning, but she was not wholly disappointed at the events thus far. If Théodred was leaving that afternoon, she and her family could depart for Dol Amroth no later than the next morning. She was eager to be away from this city, away from her uncle who always seemed to look at her with a mixture of disdain and irritation. She was eager to put the circlet that made her so uncomfortable deep within a trunk, never to be seen again. But so long as she remained in this city, under the watch of the Steward, she would have to keep it out for its daily use.

A quick knock on the door pulled Lothíriel from her thoughts and she turned away from the cold, white stone. A solemn housemaid stepped through the doorway and surveyed Lothíriel for a moment, her mouth a single, unmoving line. Lothíriel watched as the young woman efficiently cleaned the room from the night's untidiness. After finishing her chores, she bowed to the princess and bid her a good morning. Just moments after exiting the room, the maid who had prepared her for the previous night's dinner, stepped into the room and bowed before the princess. She was more finely dressed than the housemaid as befitted her station. She spoke a quiet greeting to the princess before proceeding to prepare her for the day ahead.

After nearly an hour Lothíriel stood in a simple, pale blue dress that matched a clear winter's sky and her hair was a bit less formal as only the top bit was braided while the bottom hung down gracefully. She took a deep breath before the circlet was placed around her forehead, nearly gasping at the coldness of the white stone as it touched her skin. Lothíriel kept her mind mostly cleared in case she was bombarded with another unannounced vision. The only thought that seemed to never leave her was her desire to leave this city of cold white stones.

* * *

Denethor looked at Théodred with obvious disdain for a few moments before nodding to him. "I suppose then all I can wish you is a swift and safe journey. I will make sure that all of your conditions are met before you return to inspect the contract. Will you be keeping correspondence with Princess Lothíriel during your engagement?"

"I'm afraid that is out of the question," he sighed as he shook his head, "as I am mostly away from my home during these times." Théodred watched as the steward took a seat on his small, marbled, chair.

"Very well. You will return in a year to escort the princess to your country then?" Denethor's frown became more pronounced as Théodred shook his head again.

"It is not Rohirric custom for the groom to escort the bride to her husband's home. I will send men to escort her and your party as well, but I cannot be a part of the procession."

"Surely you can compromise, as it is Gondorian custom to do the very opposite. In fact, when we have a marriage here in the city, the groom escorts the bride from the bottom of the city all the way to the citadel to be bonded as one." Denethor began tapping his finger on the stone underneath his hand.

"Well," Théodred's calm voice held a hint of steel that proved he was not only a commander of men, but also the crown prince of Rohan, "considering that Princess Lothíriel will be marrying me in Rohan, and will then be considered to be one with not only the country but the people, as well as their future queen," he paused as the words hung in the air. "Then she should, and the rest of the Gondorian party thereafter, should follow Rohirric tradition." He cleared his throat and shifted slightly under the weight of his full armor. "Now, I believe it would be wise to depart currently before I lose much more of the morning." He nodded in the direction of the steward before turning away from the man. He caught the look of indignation on Denethor's face, but Théodred was certain that if he didn't prove his ability to hold his ground the conditions he had placed for the marriage contract would be there in name only, if that.

As he exited the two large doors that lead out to the courtyard with the dead, white tree he saw Lothíriel. She was no longer in the warm colors that reminded him of home but in a cold blue that recalled a feeling of ice to his mind. Beside her, Prince Imrahil kept his pace equal to her own. A strange, pained look, much like the one she had worn on her face the previous night, was etched around her eyes. He wondered what had made her change so drastically from how she was the morning before. When they had been alone in the stables she had seemed much more alive and warm. He wondered if it was because of the presence of her father, but he didn't feel that Imrahil was such a parent to abuse his position over his daughter.

"Good morning, Prince Théodred!" Imrahil called out upon seeing the Rohir. Théodred smiled and stepped forward to meet them on their path.

"Good morning, my lord and lady. I am just on my way to the stables to depart for Rohan. I am glad that we happened across each other. Would you mind accompanying me to the stables?" Smoothly he came to Lothíriel's side, opposite from Imrahil.

"Certainly," Imrahil's jovial voice echoed. "We are sad to hear that you will be departing so soon after settling matters over your marriage to my daughter."

Théodred nodded. "I am sad to have to depart so suddenly as well, but my country needs the protection I can provide. These are difficult and dark times and as such, my people need every last sword working towards their safety."

"While I am glad that Dol Amroth has been kept from most of the conflict aimed towards Gondor, I do not doubt the darkening of days is growing more and more. The enemies from the East seem to grow bolder after each passing day." Imrahil let out a quiet sigh.

"It seems Rohan and Gondor's enemies share that trait at least." They reached the doorway to the stables and Théodred led Lothíriel off to the side. When they were some feet away from Imrahil, Théodred bent over and kissed the back of Lothíriel's hand gently. "I am sorry that you and I won't have much a chance to get to know each other before our marriage ceremony, but do not forget my promise to you. Once we know each other, we will become good friends, I'm sure." He kissed the back of her hand again and stepped away, leaving her where she stood. Imrahil shook his hand soundly before bidding the prince farewell.

* * *

Lothíriel watched from the courtyard of the citadel as the Prince's party grew into tiny dots racing across the Pelennor Fields. She knew she had made her decision and couldn't go back on it now, but a strange feeling, like an itch just out of reach, grew on her. She ignored the feeling and focused ahead of Théodred's party on the distant horizon that lead towards Rohan. As the tiny silhouettes became specks she turned away and walked towards the throne room where her father had entered several minutes before. A few feet from the door, she stopped to the sound of shouting from inside. Before she could make the words out, the doors were pulled open and her father, storming out, nearly collided with her.

"Father," she had to pick up her skirts to keep up with his long strides, "what is the matter?" Imrahil stopped so suddenly that Lothíriel ended up taking two steps ahead of him and had to turn back simply to face him. His face was a mixture of anger and defeat.

"You are going to stay here in Minas Tirith with your Uncle until your marriage with Prince Théodred takes place." Lothíriel was so stunned she took a half step backwards.

"Surely not, I will be returning to Dol Amroth with you in a few days!" Panic at never escaping the deathly quiet walls of this city and everything it entailed for her rose quickly.

"I will be leaving with your brother's and Meira in the morning. I am sorry that it has to be this way daughter, but I'm sure it will turn out for the best." His tone didn't make her believe him for even a second as he continued walking at a slower pace. Lothíriel stood as she was and watched as the figure of her father passed out of view behind a building. It took all her strength to remain standing under the weight of what had been decided for her.

Slowly she took shaking, careful steps in the direction of her home. As she reached her door, it swung open and Meira was standing there. Without hesitation, Lothíriel's sister in law threw her arms around Lothíriel and whispered kind, soft words of encouragement. Lothíriel allowed it to wash over her as she memorized the feel and scent of the only sister she had ever known.


	19. Chapter 19

Chapter 19

_Fire spread around the large white stone. Hungry flames licked upward, reaching for the single figure standing on top. Her skin was as pale as the moonlight and her dark, long, straight hair flowed behind her in the wind. She watched the flames around her without expression when suddenly all went dark and still. The scorch marks on the stone faded and the woman let out a small cry before stepping off into the abyss. The only sound that came from her fall was that of her simple white dress as it flapped like a bird trying to take flight as she plummeted into the unending darkness._

East-Mark, Rohan

April 3018

Éomer sat up suddenly, his chest heaving at the image that remained seared within his mind. As he came further and further into true consciousness, he felt the cold that clung to his damp skin. Taking a few calming breaths he tried to remember everything from his dream. He wondered what it all meant. But it faded away with each second and the more he tried to grasp at the image of the woman's face, the more it seemed to be just out of reach.

He lay back down and stared up at the ceiling of his tent, wondering what could have inspired such a vivid dream. He tried to return to sleep, but after several minutes knew it would be a futile effort. Sitting back up slowly, he lit a candle and opened one of the maps he tended to bring with him throughout the Mark. On it was marked several places that were ideal for ambushes as well as others where campsites could be set up defensibly. He had spent many years marking the map, finding all the hidden gems of the massive plains all around him.

The quiet sound approaching footsteps alerted him and he folded up the map before making his way to the flap of the tent. He opened it and saw his most loyal of men, Éothain, standing before his tent with an inquisitive look in his eyes.

"Is everything well with you, my lord?" His voice was low so as not to wake anyone in the other nearby tents.

"Indeed," Éomer moved aside, giving Éothain room to enter the tent. "I simply couldn't sleep and decided that I would plan our next route."

Éothain lifted an eyebrow skeptically, "And why could you not sleep?" His expression was as serious as usual as he surveyed the Marshal.

"It is nothing for anyone to be concerned with." Éomer waved casually before reaching over and picking up two cups and filling them from the small wineskin that he had brought with him. Holding out the full cup to his friend, he hoped he would take the offering and not ask any further questions. He did not know why he was so hesitant to bring up his strange dream, but before he could think on it further, Éothain spoke up again.

"Have you received any word from Edoras? There are rumors that your uncle is no longer the man who took the throne. They say that he has been replaced with a shell in his image." As they spoke, Éomer remembered the image of his uncle, sitting so still he might as well have been dead, being spoken for by Wormtongue.

"Messages coming from Edoras have become something of a rare occurrence, though I must remind you that so long as Théoden King remains with breath in his body, he is still our King. If his very life brings him pain, we can only hope that the Valar do not prolong his suffering." Éomer put the rim of the cup to his lips and took a long gulp before bringing it back down.

"You are right, of course my lord. In the future, I will remind the men and whoever else I hear whispering such rumors of your words." Éothain finished his drink before handing the cup back over to Éomer. He walked towards the entrance and only turned back while he held the flap of the tent open. "Perhaps we can plan our route that we can return to Edoras and you can meet with your sister and even find your uncle in better health that you had left him in." The flap fell behind him and for a few moments, Éomer could hear the receding footsteps.

He thought on Éothain's words of a while. He didn't dare to hope that his uncle would be returned to health, but the idea of seeing Éowyn again, who he had not heard from since Yule, was something he truly desired. Returning his attention to the map, he stared over it, wondering if he could plan a route that would allow that without shirking his duty.

* * *

Minas Tirith

April 3018

Lothíriel stared up at the ceiling of her room as the dawn's light began to filter through her window. Although it had only been a month since her father had left with Elphir and Meira, it had felt like years had gone by. Due to the circlet, she was often too concerned to focus on anything, which had left the nobility to believe her to be cold and rude. Shortly after the gossip of her behavior spread, people stopped coming for visits or attempting to speak to her at all. Eventually she had decided to remain within her home, away from the judging eyes of Gondor's nobility and away from the expectation to wear the circlet.

A knocking at the door sounded lightly, taking Lothíriel away from her thoughts. She turned away, pulling the bed covers over her head as the latch clicked open. She could hear footsteps approaching and suddenly she felt the mattress shift to a new weight and then she heard the voice.

"Oh sister, how long do you plan to remain ill?" The voice belonged to Amrothos, the only brother who had volunteered to remain in the White City with her. She did not fool herself though. She knew that his main reason for remaining was his love of the city and the people that he helped in the House of Healing. "I have checked you and you are well enough, but still you don't touch your food and when you do happen to go out, you pay no attention to anything or anyone. Please tell me what is troubling you so much."

Lothíriel peaked from under the covers to the brother who was closest to her in age. He smiled warmly to her and stroked one of her exposed fingers. With the touch, she remembered how much she missed Dol Amroth and the rest of her family. She remembered the feeling of loneliness and despair as she saw all but one of her family members riding towards the ship that would take them home. She forced the blanket down further, revealing the whole of her face before accepting Amrothos' outstretched hand to help her up.

"Amrothos," she sighed, "I don't know how much longer I can survive in this city. Uncle will not let me be in public without my circlet and I am not myself while I wear it. I long to return to Dol Amroth and be near the sea again. I have been away long enough." Tears began welling up in her eyes. "This city is killing me!"

"Lothíriel," Amrothos pulled her into a gentle hug and stroked her hair, "I know that this is not what you wanted. I know that if you had your way, you would be on a ship right now. But sometimes, we have to live with the circumstances that we are given. And be thankful for what you do have rather than what you do not." He let go, and a look of determination was in his eyes. "I have an idea on how you can be in public without wearing the circlet you so clearly despise, but let me discuss it first with someone."

"What is it?" Lothíriel's frustration and sadness replaced with curiosity.

"I do not want to tell you until I have confirmed that you can do it. I will see you later little sister." He kissed her forehead before making his way back to the door. "Try to at least take a walk in the gardens. It's still inside the house, and the walls are high enough no one could see you." He closed the door behind him, leaving a stunned Lothíriel behind.

* * *

Minas Tirith

August 3018

Lothíriel rushed towards the sound of screams, a basket of clean linens in her hands. The people she passed paid no attention to her as her feet moved swiftly down the long hallway. Finally, reaching the room, she entered and the first thing she saw was the blood. She did not hesitate as she would have in the beginning of her training, but stepped forward confidently. She looked down at the wounded soldier with various battle wounds. Placing a damp, cool cloth on the man's forehead and a heavy leather strap between the his teeth, she nodded to the healer who stood ready.

For several hours, she aided the healer in his multiple tasks. She pulled the string for the stitches, held the boards for the broken bones to be set to, and made sure to keep the soldier's forehead cool. Finally, when all the work was done, she found a seat and handed the last of the wet cloths to the healer and washed her own hands that were covered in blood. The healer began to leave, taking the sullied cloths with him but Lothíriel remained seated. She stared at the face of the now unconscious man who had been damaged so wholly and wondered what horrors he had seen. She shook her head along with the images that were in her mind before standing and leaving the room.

Standing outside the door was Amrothos. His back was against the wall and his eyes were cast down onto a small stack of papers. "From what I hear, you're doing well." He looked up from his papers with a smile. "I'm glad that you have been making a place for yourself here." Stepping away from the wall, he took Lothíriel's arm and began to slowly guide her out of the House of Healing.

"I'm glad to have a single place outside of our home that I don't have to bear my circlet." She nodded, but as she did, they passed under an archway that led outside. The sun had already set several hours earlier, but the full moon above was so bright that she could clearly make out the path she and Amrothos normally took on their way home from the House of Healing. "Amrothos," her voice was very quiet when she spoke her brother's name. He turned his face towards her, but continued on his way slowly, trailing her along at his side. "I don't belong here." Lothíriel stared out at the walls that surrounded the city. They were beautiful, but she kept thinking of how it reminded her of a luxurious prison. She let go of Amrothos and stepped away from him, moving towards the wall that looked out at the fields below. "This is not my home. I doubt I will ever feel at home here." She sighed lightly as she felt hands on her shoulders.

"You will not remain in this city forever. Your future marriage to Prince Théodred will assure that." He turned her around and looked deeply into Lothíriel's eyes. "I do not know how it will be for you in Rohan, but I can only hope that you will feel happier there." He kissed her forehead and looked at her again.

"Go on home," Lothíriel said with what she hoped was a reassuring smile. "I'll follow after shortly." Amrothos nodded after studying her a moment longer and backed away until her was once again on the path home. Lothíriel turned once again to stare out onto the plains. She felt then, in that quiet moment, the stirrings of a vision growing. She looked around cautiously for anyone who might see her, but she was utterly alone. She cleared her mind and allowed the quiet vision to flow.

In her arms was a child no older than two years. He was beautiful with a mass of dark curls covering his head and a pair of dark blue eyes that seemed to remind her of someone she couldn't quite place in that exact moment. The boy held his hand up and she reached down and took it. Then she noticed something that struck her. She was seeing something she herself was experiencing in the future. As she grabbed the boy's hand, he began to lead her out with a toddling run. Eventually the two of them were outside and the boy gave an excited yelp and let go of her hand. Going down stairs that also seemed to pull at her memory.

"Papa!" the boy made it to a man. She couldn't see his face very clearly as the sun was behind him and in her eyes. But a sense of happiness and belonging filled her. After a few more moments, as the vision began to fade away, she realized that the future self she had been looking through had been standing in Rohan. She continued on her path and wondered why the child's eyes had seemed so familiar.

* * *

Aldburg, Rohan

October 3018

A chilling wind swept over the plains as Éomer sat atop Firefoot and watched the sun rise. The grass was beginning to brown and in the light, it seemed to resemble the golden roof of Meduseld. It had been a long while since he had returned to Edoras, and he began to wonder about Éowyn. The horse nickered quietly, turning his attention away from the light and his thoughts. Éomer followed the horse's gaze to see Éothain riding up to him casually. Once he was close enough, he watched Éomer for a few moments before speaking.

"I've seen that look before. You're longing for a journey. You know," he paused, turning his head away from Éomer, "if you found yourself a wife, I'm sure you wouldn't be quite so eager to be away from your home so often."

"You know as well as I that I have vowed to take no wife until these dark days have passed." Éomer laughed lightly, "Though I do pity you in having to depart from your bride while she is still blushing."

"Gléowyn is a hearty lass who knows to whom she is married. She also knows your terrible habits of leaving not long after your arrival and that I am tied to those travels as your captain."

Éomer shifted in his saddle and looked closely at Éothain's profile. When he spoke, his tone had shifted into something much more serious. "You wouldn't have to continue being by my side now. As I said, dark days are here, and I would not fault you if you wished to remain with your wife until they ended." His voice became quieter as he whispered, "If they ever do end."

Éothain looked back to Éomer and studied him for less than a minute before laughing loudly. "As if you would survive one week without me to aid you, oh brave Third Marshal!" His tone was sarcastic and forced a small smile onto Éomer's lips. "Aye, dark days are here, but I would rather spend my time making sure that we were doing our best to end them instead of cowering behind my wife's skirts." He laughed again before pulling his horse round to face Aldburg. "If I wished to remain, ha!" With those words tossed over his shoulder, he sped back towards Aldburg leaving Éomer behind, smiling ruefully at his closest friend's back.


	20. Chapter 20

Chapter 20

Minas Tirith

March 3019

Lothíriel sat beside the fire watching the flames dancing, before turning her attention to the elderly man who sat across from her. She could tell, even though he was sitting down, that he was a tall man, and though he seemed to be no older than eighty or ninety, she had known enough elves to realize that he was far older than his physical body showed. He was watching and studying her with great intensity. Under his scrutiny, she thought back on the events that had brought her to this moment.

At the beginning of her day, as she had departed for the House of Healing, she was stopped by a young messenger who had summoned her to her uncle's home. Amrothos had nodded to her grimly as she made her way back to her home to prepare herself to be scrutinized by Denethor. It hadn't taken long to prepare and she had sighed as she placed the circlet around her head, biting back a quiet gasp as the cold stone set itself against the skin of her forehead. Once everything was in place, she rushed off, anxious to finish her business with Denethor before the chance of an unexpected vision would beset her.

As she made her way to the entrance to the hall, she passed two figures – an elderly man dressed completely in white with an equally white staff and someone who was so short that he could have passed for a child if his face had not been that of a grown man and his feet which were uncovered except for the amount of hair that seemed almost like a fur covering them. For a moment, the elderly man caught her eyes and as he looked at her solemnly, he nodded his head deeply before turning his attention forwards. Lothíriel was still watching them over her shoulder even as her feet propelled her into the hall where her uncle was seated.

"Lothíriel," she turned her attention towards his voice. It was clear, but there was a look in his eyes that seemed to be like gazing into muddy water. She approached his seat more cautiously than she ever had before. He waited until she was directly in front of him before continuing. "You have spent so little time among the people of court, I was beginning to wonder if you were still in the White City." His lips curved upwards into a smile but the strange look remained. "You and your brother will join me for dinner this evening." He nodded, as if to himself.

"I believe that my time here, waiting to be wed to Prince Théodred, has been spent well. Although I was among the court, Amrothos has been helping me pass the time in a way that benefits many others within the city." Lothíriel fought back the urge to bite her lip as Denethor's gaze cooled even further.

"Indeed," he turned his attention away from her and gazed at a nearby wall where, if there had been a window, he would have undoubtedly laid eyes upon the shadows that were approaching. "You know," he began calmly, "perhaps it would be best if you were settled with someone in Gondor rather than being stuck in a glorified house on some plain in the middle of nowhere."

A knot clenched in Lothíriel's stomach." But the contracts have already been drawn up." As soon as the words were out of Lothíriel's mouth, she knew that it was not what Denethor had wanted to hear.

"I had hoped that during your time here in Minas Tirith you would have gained the ability to know when it is not prudent to speak." He waved his hand dismissively. "The contracts will hold no water if what I have heard is true." He began to mumble words under his breath and Lothíriel recognized Boromir's name. His expression briefly turned to one of grief and the knot in her stomach sunk lower. She was about to ask what had happened to her cousin when a vision unexpectedly descended upon her. Unable to clear her mind in time, she fell into unconsciousness immediately.

_She sat in a chair in the House of Healing, the sound of wounded men echoing around her. In front of her she saw a man, silhouetted by the light coming from the window behind him, entering the alcove. It wasn't until he moved to check on the warrior on the bed that Lothíriel knew that it was a woman lying there, pale with long blond hair, her eyes closed as she slept in peace._

_"My friend," the voice sounded familiar. The man turned back and Lothíriel saw his face and immediately recognized him as Aragorn, who she had met during her time in Rivendell. "Your sister is no longer in any danger." He placed a hand on Lothíriel's shoulder lightly that she only just realized was covered in grimy armor. With that awareness, she concluded that she wasn't in her body, but seeing through the eyes of a man. It was strange that it took her so long to come to that conclusion, but what had felt so familiar suddenly felt so foreign, as if she knew the body but didn't. Aragorn's deep voice pervaded her thoughts, "Go and find your own rest. I will send for you when she awakens."_

_The man stood stiffly, and followed Aragorn away from the sleeping woman. Not a minute after leaving her side, the strangest thing happened. She saw herself standing against the wall. Her expression was solemn. A feeling of warmth, like a freshly heated bath washed over the man and he watched her until their eyes finally met._

_Instantly, her perspective changed and she was in her own body and she found herself staring into eyes that were bluer than the deepest oceans. The same feeling of warmth rushed through her for a moment before the man who seemed to be on the very tip of her memory bowed slightly and turned away._

Lothíriel opened her eyes to discover that she had been transported to her bedroom. How long she had been unconscious, she would never know, but as she sat up, she wondered after the blue-eyed man.

* * *

Shortly after awakening, her bedroom door opened slowly and Amrothos' face peered through the doorway. As soon as he made eye contact, he sighed heavily in relief before opening the door fully and entering. Sitting on the edge of her bed, he placed a gentle hand on her forehead.

"You gave us quite a scare." Satisfied that all was well with his sister, he removed his hand and kissed her forehead gently.

"That hasn't happened in quite a while." Lothíriel laughed quietly, though she could feel a blush coming on. "I hope I didn't take you away from anything too important." Moving the blankets away, she stood and made her way towards the nearby fire. Finding a chair, she looked back at Amrothos and caught a strange expression on his face. "What is it?"

"I'm afraid I have some bad news." He began quietly. "Our cousin, Boromir is dead. I was surprised when I found that Faramir and Uncle Denethor had already known for some days, but it is likely that they never found the time with all of their duties." Although Lothíriel felt sadness at the news, something in her had expected it when she had watched her cousin depart on his horse, so long ago. "Did he not mention it to you when you went to him?"

She shook her head, "He declared a sudden distaste of my pending marriage to Prince Théodred. He went so far as to declare that I should find someone here who is of Gondorian decent. He also summoned the two of us to dinner this very evening."

"He decided to allow you to rest. Your collapse in front of him was very unexpected news for me. It hasn't happened in years. Are you unwell?" She sighed as Amrothos put a gentle hand on her forehead and indicated to the circlet laying on the nightstand beside her.

"I don't know why or how, but when that white stone touches my skin, I receive no warning before a vision comes. Normally, I have been able to clear my mind as it comes, but while Uncle Denethor was speaking, I did not have the chance." She looked down at her hands that were folded together in her lap.

"I see that you have been having a difficult time of it," he embraced her, "I should have noticed it before now given your obvious aversion to the accessory." He let go of her and stood up quickly, casting a glance towards the open doorway. "There is someone here who wishes to speak to you as soon as you are able to entertain company. Do you feel up to it?"

Lothíriel nodded before throwing the blankets off of her. "Let me change and I will be down shortly." As if on cue, Lothíriel's maid stepped through, smiling politely to both siblings. Amrothos patted Lothíriel's shoulder before making his way out.

* * *

"Is everything alright?" The elder's deep voice seemed to have a strange echo and Lothíriel started, being pulled away from her recollections.

"I apologize," she smiled sheepishly, "today has been quite an exciting day and I was simply reflecting on its events."

"I see." He leaned back in his chair, an idle hand running over his long white beard. "Now, I know who you are, but that is only by chance as I recognized the white stone you wore over your mind's eye this very day."

"How would you recognize it rather than me?" A sudden thought struck her, "Did you have a part in making it?" He smiled at her knowingly.

"Indeed I did. Lord Denethor approached me about easing your troubled state and regrettably I referred him to one who took advantage of your vulnerabilities." He cleared his throat, "My name, or at least, one of my names, is Gandalf. I was once the grey wizard, but no longer for I am the white wizard as the Wizard Saruman should have been."

Hearing both the names of the wizards raised the memory when Denethor presented the circlet to her the first time. "You're the reason I have that wretched thing?" Her brow knitted as he nodded.

"If I may, could I see it?" Lothíriel was in such a state of shock she rang for a servant before even thinking about it. Once the servant returned with it, Lothíriel placed it in Gandalf's hands.

"That has been nothing but trouble since the moment it was given to me. Not only is it unbearable to wear because of the jewel, but I would have a vision without any warning!" She stood and paced, allowing the frustration of how powerless she had felt fill her up. "I had to constantly keep my mind clear or else I would collapse just as I had when I was a child!" She was warming to her subject when Gandalf reached out and gently took hold of her arm. A sense of calm amid her anger bloomed and remained when he let go of her arm. She once again took her seat.

"I can see it clearly," he muttered to himself as he studied the white stone, "and it is a wonder that I never caught it before." Connecting his eyes with Lothíriel, he smiled sadly. "When Saruman entered into the agreement with your uncle to forge this circlet, he had already aligned himself with Sauron. As such, he saw an opportunity with you that was too good to pass up." He sighed, his fingers playing at the edges of the silver. "This stone is laced with a spell that allows any vision you have whilst it is touching you to be sent directly to Saruman so that he might see what you see. To be able to get away with this, he set in motion something in the spell that took away your body's ability to restrain a vision as your training with Lord Elrond taught you." He cast it into the fire and whispered something under his breath and the white stone cracked and turned to dust within the fire. "It was a thing of evil created under the pretense of good."

Lothíriel felt a wave of relief as she saw the stone no longer existed but then a thought struck her. "One of my first visions while touching the stone was of a successful battle between my future husband, Prince Théodred of Rohan and orcs at a ford. Was Saruman able to use anything from that."

The look of sadness answered her immediately but still, the confirmation wasn't complete until Gandalf opened his mouth. "Théodred, son of Théoden was killed in an orc ambush on February 25th at the fords of Isen."

"Before the snow melted." Lothíriel's sadness overwhelmed her as she thought about it. "It's because Saruman knew that they would be vulnerable before the snow had melted." A heavy weight pressed on her chest as the realization came full circle. It was her fault he was dead. If she had only refused to wear the circlet, or refused the match with Théodred, he might still be alive, and surely, his blood would not be on her hands as it was now.

"My dear," Gandalf's quiet voice seemed to be a single line of light within Lothíriel's darkness, "there are things that happen within our lives that are sad and regrettable even, but death is not the end, and certainly there is a plan that we can not ever fully know. You have been graced with the gift to peer beyond the veil and see what may happen in the future, for no one, not even I, can accurately predict what is to come and when each time." He stood and gazed at her kindly. "I can see you have much to ponder. I hope that we can meet again soon and speak more."

Lothíriel hardly heard him exit but sat and stared into the fire solemnly wondering what other visions would never come to pass. Perhaps the happiness she had seen would never come to pass either. Now there was no contract to keep her uncle from setting up a more convenient marriage to some noble within the city, and surely he would be bitterly angry when he discovered the circlet she had worn had been destroyed, even if it was not what he had truly asked for in the beginning. As time went on, the stillness of the room seemed to be pervaded with a strange pounding she couldn't place. It was like a distant echo behind her. She did her best to ignore it but as more time passed, the more persistent it became until finally, Amrothos burst through the door.

"Sister," he was breathless, "prepare yourself at once for a long and arduous series of days in the House of Healing for the armies of Mordor are coming!"

* * *

Lothíriel worked in a fog, never noticing how much time had passed nor how many broken men and women she tended to. Each time she saw one of them, she pictured the man she had agreed to marry, broken, cold and dead, because of her, and the guilt burrowed its way further into her heart.

Horns sounded across the plains and someone outside shouted, "Rohan is here! They have come to Gondor's aid!" Lothíriel couldn't bring herself to look out the window, her guilt shrouding her in shadow. She continued to work doggedly, hardly noticing the passage of time along with the cries of war and death just outside the city's walls. The only thing to bring her out of the fog was the sound of what sounded to be a scream, but not by any man or woman that lived.

The scream seemed to resonate within her, echoing through her very blood and bones. She felt herself shaking as it eventually faded away into nothingness, but the memory of it remained, and she wondered if it would ever truly fade. She saw Amrothos across the room and stood, carrying a basket of clean linens. He was attending to a man who had taken a blow to the head. When she arrived at his side, he cast a glance at her before nodding, a look of gratitude on his face. After wrapping and giving the man some herbs to ease the pain, Amrothos led Lothíriel to a stool.

"Please don't tell me you've not taken a single moment to rest." He wiped wet blood off his fingers on the apron of his healer's garb. "You look about ready to collapse at any moment." He dipped the corner of a cloth in a nearby bowl of water and gently wiped her face. "Stay here and I will fetch you a piece of bread and some water. Until you have taken a short recess, you won't attend to anyone else."

"But –" Lothíriel started but Amrothos cut her off with his hand.

"I will hear nothing but your consent. You will cause more harm than good if you can no longer keep yourself standing." He waited for Lothíriel to nod before turning and rushing about.

From where Lothíriel sat, she could see out onto the plains where the fighting was taking place. At some point she had not noticed, the mûmakil had arrived and on their backs was the army of Harad. The black serpent against the red flags were clear, even from the distance. The warriors of Rohan faced them valiantly and Lothíriel watched in horror as many of them were trampled by the giant creatures. She tore her eyes away just as Amrothos approached, the promised nourishment in hand.

She ate silently, mourning the loss of so many good men before forcing her mind back onto the injured before her. After minutes, she finished the water and bread and stood, somewhat restored and reentered the fray.

* * *

The battle, that had seemed would go on unending, had finished. Many of the healers and soldiers had been sent below to retrieve the wounded among the fallen and return them to the city. Warrior after warrior, soldier after soldier were brought in. Quickly, they were examined and those who had been deemed wounded too greatly were sent to Lothíriel and the other healers who were less skilled as they spoke with the dying men.

Eventually, there was a lull and Lothíriel found herself staring out to the plains once again. No longer were there men and orcs clashing like ants far below, but a still, smoking, length that expanded, dotting the landscape with bodies made equal in death. As she thought of death, she wondered after Théodred's own demise. She wondered what would have happened had she never had her visions. Although she knew she had not consciously brought about his doom, she still felt responsible all the same. Her eyes took in the scattered flags marked in the colors of Rohan. The bold greens, reds and golds seemed to call out to her and a feeling of familiarity overcame her. The strangest feeling of warmth seemed to fill her body along with the desire to change the course of her eyes.

Instantly, she saw him. Across from the room, a man stood in red leather armor. When she saw his eyes, there was no doubt. She was looking at the blue-eyed man.


	21. Chapter 21

Chapter 21

Minas Tirith

March 3019

Éomer felt a shiver go up his back as he stared into the woman's eyes from across the room. People rushed around them but they seemed to be under a spell and could neither look away nor move. Then one of the healers bumped into him, making him move forward half a step to catch his balance and the spell was broken. The woman lowered her gaze, turned her back, and rushed into the busiest part of the House of Healing. He watched her every movement until she was completely out of sight, memorizing them, so that if ever saw her again, he would immediately recognize her .

Finally, he turned to see the healer who had bumped into him. The man looked to be younger than Éomer, even as he smiled sheepishly, his eyes had the same iron strength of any of his riders. "I apologize, my lord." The healer shifted the small basket of purple vials in his hand. "I'm afraid I was rather distracted when I nearly knocked you over." A joyful look passed over his face for a moment as he clapped his hand on Éomer's arm. "And I know how I'll make it up to you! Come to my home once things have begun to settle down and have dinner with my family. I guarantee that it will be one of the most pleasant meals you've ever had." He smiled widely before stepping past Éomer and towards the busiest part of the House of Healing where the woman had disappeared, but before he did he turned and shouted, "To find it, just ask where the house of Dol Amroth is and give my name: Amrothos!"

* * *

Lothíriel kneeled in front of the black nightshade bushes that sat in the very back of the House of Healing's herb garden, trying to look as normal as she thought she should. Although she hadn't recognized him, she knew as soon as she had seen him in person that she had met him before. Shaking her head, she took one of the empty bags that were folded neatly beside each bush in the garden and began picking the ripe berries. As she felt each of the berries, testing how ripe they were, she remembered when Amrothos had tutored her in front of these very bushes.

* * *

"You use poison on your patients?" Lothíriel's voice was shrill as she thought of all the people who would have come for help and died. Amrothos chuckled as he picked up one of the berries and popped it into his mouth. Lothíriel sucked in her breath and stared at him in horror as Amrothos began to laugh.

"This is harmless. Although it looks almost exactly like it's cousin, deadly nightshade, we can tell the difference because black nightshade grows in bunches while it's poisonous cousin's berries grows on it's own." He held out a small twig with a bundle of blackish-purple berries attached. "What these wonderful berries do, is block pain. We can rub it on the skin as a honey-salve for cuts, bruises, and the like. It can be eaten to ease head or stomach pains, and mixed with other herbs it can have other uses, such as easing a patient into a painless unconsciousness so we can have an easier time working on their wounds if needed.

* * *

Lothíriel looked up at the sky as the memories faded. Although night had fallen for several hours, she knew that the House of Healing would be very busy for the next couple of days. At least until most of the patients either began to mend or passed. Although several healers had sought the solace of their homes for a few hours, others had merely found a free bed to rest before returning to their work. Lothíriel knew that none of the healers would be upset or astonished if she chose to return to her home, but still she remained. Even if her training was not complete, she could still give aid to the healers who needed it.

* * *

She stood and turned around to see Amrothos standing in the doorway leading back inside. He smiled gently as he held the door open for her. When she walked through, he opened his mouth to speak but after seeing the look on her face, he seemed to decide to remain silent. She was grateful as they walked down the halls where the sounds of groans and cries could be heard along with muffled words of comfort. Some of the rooms were silent and inside the figures of sleeping soldiers, who had been successfully treated, lay unmoving.

As Lothíriel and Amrothos worked, they passed a doorway with a woman lying unconscious with a figure seated beside her, resting a damp linen on her forehead. Almost immediately she recognized not only that it was the woman from her vision, but also that the man seated was none other than Aragorn. She stepped into the room silently and studied the woman's face, trying to place why it was so familiar.

"This is the Lady Éowyn." Aragorn had not turned, but his many years among the elves and silent animals had seemed to give him a sense of being able to know when he was not alone. When he finally did turn and saw Lothíriel, a smile lit up his face in recognition. "Lothíriel? My goodness, it has been a few years since I last saw you, but you look just as you did then." He stood and embraced her lightly. She found a seat on an empty bench beside Éowyn. Every moment she studied Éowyn's face, it became more and more clear that it was the same girl who she had met in Edoras as a child, even if the years that had passed had her seem to be made of stone, even in sleep. "It's actually fortunate that you are here now, Lothíriel," Aragorn touched her shoulder lightly. "I need to step out and replenish my supplies, and while I do so, will you stay with Éowyn?"

"Of course," Lothíriel nodded, turning her attention back on the sleeping woman, "take your time." His smile widened as he stepped out of the room. Lothíriel checked Éowyn's forehead for fever but was satisfied that there was none. Shifting closer so that her words would not be overheard, Lothíriel whispered, "I'm sorry about Théodred. I'm sorry for not loving him as someone should have before his death. I'm sorry for the loss of your kin." Éowyn gave no response except for her deep, even breaths and Lothíriel still felt the weight of guilt and responsibility.

* * *

Only a few days after the battle of the Pelennor Fields, Lothíriel watched as her Father and Elphir both rode through the gates on their way to face down the armies of Mordor. The House of Healing finally had calmed down as most of the wounded were out of danger, so the need for healers was diminished. Lothíriel, Amrothos and several other healers who had worked until exhaustion had been sent home to rest until at least casualties from this battle returned. Amrothos squeezed her hand as he stood beside her.

"Father and Elphir are two of the best warriors I have ever met. They'll come back." Her voice was quiet, but Amrothos was close enough that he heard every word. He squeezed her hand again and the two watched until the army was entirely out of view.

* * *

Na'man watched from the shadows of the trees as a line of soldiers marched out of the Minas Tirith. He felt his anger ignite as he saw the banners belonging to the cursed horselords, one of which had killed his own younger brother. Through the use of spies leading up to the disastrous battle, Na'man had learned that the Oracle who had disappeared months ago was actually within city. So along with a member of his family, the horselords were also responsible for keeping her from him as well.

He had considered an attempt to invade the White City, but even with the number of men leaving towards the East, he knew the city would not be left totally unprotected, and the amount of men he had ready to fight was not large enough that he was confident in the outcome. He cursed under his breath as he thought about Yusraa back in Harad. As he had left, she had advised him to take her with him, but he had refused. While she was an incredibly powerful sorceress, the battlefield was not a place for women.

He knew now that if he had brought her, even to hide while the battle raged on, she could have caused a fog that would help him and a few men to enter into the city unseen and take their prize. He would have to bide his time now, and Na'man was not a patient man.

* * *

April 3019

Minas Tirith

Lothíriel stood, just as she had been for several minutes, outside of Éowyn's room in the House of Healing. The Rohirric woman had been staring outside her window that faced towards the East the entire time and hadn't seemed to notice Lothíriel's presence. Finally, gathering up her courage, Lothíriel stepped forward and knocked lightly on the door, drawing Éowyn's attention. The look on her face when she saw Lothíriel was one of impatience.

"Yes?" Éowyn's tone was flat and she shifted in her bed. Lothíriel felt some of her courage desert her, but she didn't dare run away now that she had been seen.

"Good morning, Éowyn." Lothíriel clenched her hands into fists under the folds of her skirts before taking a seat at Éowyn's bedside.

"So, now that my name is known, I am to be addressed as a friend without even making your acquaintance?" The flat tone pitched with annoyance. Before Lothíriel could respond Éowyn scoffed and turned her head away. "Can't you and your friends leave me alone? Didn't I make it clear after the last three of you came in to keep me company?"

"I-I'm sorry for disturbing you!" Lothíriel could feel the heat rising in her face as she stood and hastened for the doorway. She was so busy keeping her head down to hide her enflamed face that she ran into someone before she even made it through the door. She would have fallen backwards if a pair of strong hands had not caught her by the arms.

"What is this?" Éowyn turned towards the man's voice with a look much more accommodating and gentle.

"Faramir!" Noticing that Lothíriel was still in the room, she scowled slightly. When Lothíriel saw the scowl, she shook off Faramir's hands and began to edge past him. He smiled down at her and caught her once again.

"Did you and Éowyn have some sort of disagreement, cousin? I thought from the way you spoke of your time in Rohan you two had become friends." At Faramir's mention of Lothíriel's visit to Rohan, Éowyn's expression turned to one of shock.

"Cousin? You're not telling me," she paused as she studied Lothíriel's face even further, "you're Lothíriel?"

"I am," Lothíriel watched as the surprise now made way for delight. Éowyn jumped out of her bed and made her way quickly towards Lothíriel and threw her arms around the stunned princess.

"I'm sorry! If I had known it was you, I'd have never been so curt. For the past days noble ladies of Gondor's court have come to _provide company_ to me only to stare at me in horror as if I was some wretched barbarian who was in desperate need of tutoring or some sort." She let got of Lothíriel's shoulders and took one of her hands, guiding her back to the seat beside her bed. A somber look passed over her eyes for a moment. "Have you heard about Théodred? He had told me that you two were meant to be wed before he," her grip on Lothíriel's hands tightened slightly, "passed on."

A pang of guilt made Lothíriel bite her lip as she nodded. "The wizard, Gandalf, brought me the news when he first arrived in Minas Tirith. I am sorry for the loss of your cousin." Éowyn smiled sadly. Before Éowyn could ask more, Lothíriel changed the subject and turned to where Faramir stood. "What are you doing here?" She glanced between Éowyn and Faramir and realized fairly quickly that it was a question she needn't have asked. The two of them gazed lovingly at each other before Faramir cleared his throat and answered.

"Éowyn and I have gotten to know each other well over the past days. It is my hope-" His words cut off abruptly as his attention was drawn to the window. He focused and stepped forward. Both Éowyn and Lothíriel followed his gaze and saw that there were figures on the horizon. Lothíriel stood and eventually made out the banner bearing the Swanship of Dol Amroth and sighed in relief.

"I'm sorry," Lothíriel stepped back, making her way towards the door, "I will come again, but for now I have to go home and tell Amrothos that our family is coming home!"

* * *

Two days after the triumphant return of Gondor and Rohan's armies, Lothíriel sat in her father's solar with Imrahil and Elphir. Amrothos, who had declared he'd had enough resting and would go to tend the few wounded in the House of Healing, was absent. Her eldest brother and father were recounting the events of the battle as well as giving a detailed account of the most recent events in Dol Amroth which included the fact that Meira was once again pregnant and thus too unwell to travel to Minas Tirith for a time. This said, Elphir would be departing to be near his wife the next day and their family would be having a splendid dinner together with Amrothos upon his return.

Lothíriel shifted in her seat as they told of the fall of Sauron and the triumph that swiftly followed. "And to think, it was through the abilities of a hobbit that it was at all possible!" Imrahil laughed heartily and Lothíriel soaked in the laugh, allowing a smile onto her own lips. She set aside her needlework and stood. The sun had been making its descent for some time and the sky was darkening as a result.

"I think I ought to get Amrothos." She tucked a stray hair behind her ear as she began to exit the room. "He can sometimes lose track of the time when he's in the House of Healing, and I doubt we'd want to have a midnight feast because of it." Elphir and her father both stood and followed her as far as the doorway.

Lothíriel was at the bottom of the stairs when she heard her brother's voice. She was about to call out to him when she realized he was not alone. "You know, I was beginning to think that you'd never accept my offer to come and dine. I'm so glad I ran into you again," he continued with a small laugh, "though I am equally as glad that it wasn't the same kind of running into you as last time."

"Indeed." A deep laugh echoed towards where Lothíriel was tucked away, and something about the laugh called to her.

Stepping out of the shadows she stood directly in front of the Rohirric warrior who had the same blue eyes she had seen not only in the House of Healing, but several years before. She wondered at why she hadn't recognized him sooner, but he was in fact the brother of Éowyn who she had met at the outskirts of both Rohan and Gondor so many years ago.

"Hello, Éomer."


	22. Chapter 22

Chapter 22

Minas Tirith

April 3019

Éomer stood, rooted to the spot as he stared in disbelief at the woman who he had seen in the House of Healing. Now that she was no longer covered in the grime and blood of the injured, he could see she bore a strange resemblance to the young girl who he had mistaken to be a boy that first day on the plains. As he took in her feminine figure and poise, he doubted he – or anyone for that matter – would be making the same mistake in the future. Her name came to his mind as if he had only heard it moments before and as he spoke, the ability to move was restored to his limbs.

"Lady Lothíriel," he bowed low and took her hand gently. It was incredibly soft and her nails, though short were clean and uniformly rounded, nothing like his sister's who had been training with a sword, among other weapons, for many years. He brushed his lips across her fingers before allowing her arm to drop back to her sides. When he straightened, the two locked gazes and Éomer was once again under her spell. After a few moments of silence, the sound of Amrothos clearing his throat along with a stifled chuckle made Lothíriel turn her attention away, her cheeks turning a lovely shade of red.

"Amrothos," her voice quivered slightly as she spoke to her brother, "since you've returned I think I should inform Father and Elphir that you've, err," she pause, eyeing Éomer for a second time, "returned." With that, she rushed out of sight and Éomer let out the breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding. How was it that the sight of a single woman could leave him behaving as though he had never before stood in the presence of the fairer sex?

"I see that you know my sister." Amrothos was leaning against a wall casually with a half smile playing at his lips. "Though I figured as much after seeing the gaze between the two of you after the battle in the House of Healing weeks ago." He straightened and clapped Éomer on the shoulder jovially. "Though I think I ought to warn you to keep your stares to yourself in my father and eldest brother's company. Neither of them are quite as understanding as I am." Éomer could only nod, dumbstruck as he was guided into the great hall and planted into a seat. He had only been sitting for a minute or two when the two princes of Dol Amroth strode confidently in, followed closely by the princess.

"King Éomer!" Imrahil boomed in greeting, "How magnificent to see you once again! I trust you and your sister are well? Please tell me you've come to join us in taking our meal." Éomer caught the surprised look coming from Lothíriel and thought it best to decline, but before he could Amrothos stepped forward.

"Of course he has. We made an acquaintance with each other shortly after the battle of the Pelennor Fields and when I saw him in the House of Healing today, I simply knew it was fate to run into him again and thought it best to come for dinner before Elphir left." Amrothos gave Éomer a smile and wink.

"So long as it isn't too much trouble." At Éomer's words, Imrahil's smile widened and he shook his head vigorously.

"Certainly not, my friend. After you saved not only my life, but the life of my son within weeks of each other, nothing is too much trouble." Imrahil led Éomer to a large table and watched while Amrothos settled Lothíriel at the left side of the head before taking a seat beside her. Elphir sat across from Amrothos and Éomer was directed to the seat that was across from Lothíriel and to the right of Imrahil. As Éomer sat, he caught Lothíriel watching him but as soon as he looked at her more directly, she moved her gaze to her eldest brother. Once Imrahil took his seat, servants entered carrying five silver bowls with a delicately painted blue trim, each filled with a thick soup.

"So, King Éomer," Amrothos began, "you were among the riders who helped to escort my sister across Rohan, is that correct?" Lothíriel's face was guarded by an expression that was akin to a stone statue. "I simply am wondering how you two had become acquainted before coming here."

"I was a part of the éored that escorted her, though I was surprised to see how much she's changed in the past years." He smiled warmly and turned his attention to Lothíriel directly. "I actually was made aware that you were living in the city when I spoke to Éowyn after my return. She was very glad you came to see her." He decided it would be best to keep to himself that when Éowyn had told him, he had no idea that Lothíriel and the enchanting healer woman would be one in the same.

"I was glad to see her healing after such a difficult battle." The quiver in her voice had lessened from earlier but no one besides Éomer seemed to take notice. "And I was glad to see her again." Her gaze was locked with Éomer's until she let out a small cough and focused on the soup placed in front of her.

The rest of the meal continued in a similar fashion and while the event in whole was pleasant, Éomer could tell that Lothíriel was uncomfortable. After the meal had concluded, Lothíriel had excused herself and left before anyone could stop her. Éomer remained for a while, but as conversations calmed, Amrothos approached him.

"You should go see my sister before the night is out." His voice was low enough that neither Imrahil nor Elphir would overhear them.

"Surely not," Éomer replied just as quietly, "seeing as she seemed to want nothing to do with me this evening."

"I have watched my sister ever since she was forced to remain here by my late uncle, and never has she seemed this alive. I think it was good for her that you came tonight. Not to mention that I don't think I have ever seen her look at a man the way she stared at you after the battle of the Pelennor Fields." Éomer turned his head to look at Amrothos directly.

"It wasn't an accident that you bumped into me that day, or that you invited me to dine with you, was it?" Something about how Amrothos smiled indicated that Éomer had guessed correctly.

"All I will say is this. Even after my father held multiple balls to help my sister find a man who could hold her heart, let alone her hand, I have never seen her blush or even been so struck before. You made her nervous and if you intend to do anything about it," his voice lowered even more, "I suggest you take a small tour of our gardens." He smiled and winked before walking over to Elphir.

Éomer watched the pair for a few moments and thought over Amrothos' words. Surely he was mistaken, he thought, but, on the chance that he wasn't. "I think I should get some fresh air. Lord Imrahil, would you be opposed if I stepped out to your gardens?" Imrahil shook his head before calling for a servant to lead him to the doorway that led outside.

It didn't take him long to locate Lothíriel. With the full moon overhead, the open garden seemed as well lit as if the sun were shining. She stood with her back to him, facing out towards the plains that quickly became rolling hills and then a mountain range in the distance. One of her black curls had come out of place and Lothíriel was wrapping it loosely around her finger then letting it fall off before beginning the process anew.

"My lady," his voice was low. Lothíriel, having been unaware of his presence, jumped and turned in one motion. As she did, one of her feet caught on the train of her dress and she began to fall backwards against the lip of the wall. With the fluidity of his years of training, he caught hold of her and pulled her away from the edge, though he seemed to have overestimated his strength for he pulled with such might that Lothíriel then came tumbling forward to where she landed against Éomer's chest, bringing him down onto the grass with her on top of him.

"I-I apologize King Éomer," She scrambled to stand but as Éomer lay in the grass, laughter overcame him. Lothíriel's face began to redden. "What's so funny?"

Éomer forced himself to hold his laughter, but as he answered, he couldn't help from letting out a few chuckles. "That is the second time in just about as many weeks that I have been nearly thrown to the ground by a member of your family." He hesitated, "Although, I suppose you could say this was a successful topple." He laughed some more.

Lothíriel crossed her arms over her chest and pursed her lips slightly. "Well it wasn't my fault! You startled me!" Her indignant tone did nothing to calm the return of Éomer's roaring laughter and Lothíriel seemed to be fighting the urge to smile as she looked down at him. Finally he calmed himself enough to stand in front of the indignant princess and bow gallantly.

"My deepest apologize, my lady." He took her arm and led her to a nearby stone bench under a willow tree. "I'm afraid I was a bit too eager to keep you from tumbling off the walls and to your death," his tone was good-naturedly mocking and finally Lothíriel let out a small smile.

"I suppose you're right. Thank you, my lord King." She bowed her head in deference.

"If it's alright with you," Éomer's smile became more warm and inviting, just as he would to a young and uncertain foal, "perhaps you could drop the use of the 'king' title. We became friends before I had any title besides Rider of Rohan." It seemed to have the desired effect as Lothíriel visibly relaxed. As she gazed around the quiet garden, she pointed out a bright red flower.

"Ever since I came to live in Minas Tirith," she dropped her hand and a somber look passed over her face. "seeing the dahlia flowers have always reminded me of Rohan." Éomer studied the flower's color and found that it was indeed the same shade of red that was used in many of the tapestries within Meduseld.

"You have an excellent memory." His voice was low. "Apparently unlike myself. I am somewhat ashamed to say that I did not recognize you when I first saw you."

"Nor did I," Lothíriel's voice grew lower and Éomer could barely make out her next words, "or the multiple times I had seen you after." There was a short pause before she cleared her throat and turned to look at him directly. Her voice was still low, but much more clear. "I am sorry for the loss of your uncle and cousin."

"Thank you." His reaction came out as rehearsed as it felt. Ever since the battle on the Pelennor Fields, condolences for his uncle had become so common that he no longer felt the sting at the mention of his loss. Then it struck him that she had also mentioned Théodred's death. He was about to ask her how she knew of his passing since he had died more than a month before the battle when the sound of approaching footsteps came from out of view. Instinctively, he stood, placing himself between the newcomer and Lothíriel. He had no weapon but felt confident enough that with Prince Imrahil's home so close, Lothíriel would be safe enough.

He felt himself relax when he saw that it was Amrothos. Seeing the way Éomer was standing gave him a moment of pause before a smile spread across his face. "I suppose you do not trust the abilities of Dol Amroth and Gondor beyond to keep my little sister from harm?" Éomer chuckled and ran his fingers through his hair at the prince's words.

"I suppose if you had spent as many years as I have believing that every unseen sound and unannounced presence was an enemy, you would react in a similar manner." As Éomer spoke, he reached his hand down, helping Lothíriel to stand.

"Unfortunately," Amrothos came closer, "I seem to be the bearer of bad news. Someone from the King's stables has come to ask that you go with him at once as there is an issue with your horse."

"Of course." Éomer began taking his long strides before facing round from the other end of the garden and bowing to Lothíriel. "Lady Lothíriel, I hope that I will be able to see you again soon." He saw her nod with a small, intimate smile.

* * *

Lothíriel watched Éomer disappear around the corner moments after straightening from his bow. She waited until the sound of his footsteps had disappeared before sinking back down onto the same bench she had been sitting on with him. She caught Amrothos watching her with a knowing look and felt a blush color her cheeks.

"What?" Her voice was louder than she had meant for it to be. She repeated her question more quietly, "Amrothos, what is it?"

He took a seat beside her where Éomer had been sitting moments before. "I think you like him." Amrothos' knowing look grew softer as he reached out and touched her arm. "There is no shame in it, little sister."

"No shame?" she sighed, "Certainly, there is no shame in pursuing the very kin of the man I was meant to marry not even two months after his death. The very same man who is meant to inherit the very same title into which I would have been married had Théodred lived." She put her head into her hands. "And who knows what Éomer would think about my disloyalty to his cousin." A sinking feeling filled her and she wanted nothing more than to run away from her the pounding in her heart.

"You never loved Théodred, and I remember how you told me of how Uncle Denethor had forced you into that engagement. Surely you cannot be blamed for finally feeling love towards a man." He put his arm around Lothíriel's shoulders, drawing her into his warmth. "I know you, sister. And you are not disloyal. In fact, you are probably one of the most loyal people I have ever known. And you've been unhappy for such a long time. Don't you think you deserve some happiness?"

"But what about when my happiness can cause others, perhaps even the one I may love, pain?" Lothíriel whispered.

"If I know love," Amrothos' voice was just as quiet as Lothíriel's but it was also just as clear as the night's sky, "and I believe I do after watching not only Elphir and Meira for a great deal of my life, but also from the times that mother's have held their newborns or husbands had been with their wives in the House of Healing. Unless it is left unrequited, it can do nothing but bring joy to the people involved."

Lothíriel turned her head back to gaze once more on the dahlia flowers that reminded her of Rohan. As she gazed at them, the pressure on her heart lifted and she remembered the way that Éomer had laughed as well as the gentle look in his deep, blue eyes as they had spoken. She had never thought that love at first sight was real, but each moment that she thought of Éomer, she wondered at how wrong she had been to not believe in its existence.

* * *

Na'man turned his focus away from Minas Tirith and studied the encampment around him. Most of the men who had been injured had either succumbed to them or healed and he knew that he could not linger outside of the White City any longer. He needed to return to his palace in Târêt before his absence was taken advantage of by anyone who would think to claim the throne that was his by blood right.

Taking one of his daggers from his hip he held the dark, naked blade up. The nearby fire glinted off its surface and as each of the men turned to pay attention to their leader a still silence surrounded them. Once there was no noise outside of the crackling of the fire, Na'man turned back to Minas Tirith.

"I swear on all of the gods," the cold blade met the flesh of his palm and he cut ceremonially, "I will return and take what is mine within this city. The Oracle who belongs in Harad will not be allowed to escape the next time I come for her." His voice came out like the hiss of a snake, but he knew his words were heard by every single member of the camp. When he turned back to face them he held the bloodied dagger out so the bright red could be seen against the black metal.


	23. Chapter 23

Chapter 23

Minas Tirith

April 3019

Lothíriel moved down the quiet streets, unheard and unnoticed by the few nobles and guards who were awake before the morning sun. She pulled her cloak tighter to keep out the pre-morning chill as she neared the stables. When she entered, she saw that, aside from the horses, it was empty, as usual. When she had been living under her uncle's rule, she would sneak out in a similar fashion whenever she'd had trouble sleeping. The same problem had occurred the previous night. The night that she had met with Éomer, King of Rohan.

In the flickering torchlight, Lothíriel spotted a new, but familiar face among the horses. At first she thought it was a coincidence, but as she approached the great creature, she knew. This was Brego, the horse that had belonged to Théodred. The same one she had met no more than a year before, when she had been made to agree to wed the future king of Rohan.

Lothíriel brought out some of the pieces of dried carrots and apples and the horse looked at her in anticipation. After consuming the treats, he nuzzled her hand gently, asking for more. "I'm afraid I don't want to give you more than your share. There are other's here who wouldn't get anything if you were to eat any more." Brego sniffed at her words and watched her intelligently. "I bet you didn't think you'd be back in the city after what happened to your previous master." She stroked down his nose gently. "Although, I am glad to see that you've found a new one."

"That would be Aragorn." Lothíriel turned around suddenly. She had recognized the deep voice almost instantly. Éomer was leaning against one of the pillars that jutted out from between the stalls of other horses.

"Has anyone told you that you need to announce yourself more?" Lothíriel stepped away from Brego and more to the center of the stables. "What are you doing here?"

"I could ask you the very same thing." A crooked smile pulled at his lips. "I'm surprised that you know that horse. It belonged to my cousin before his death." From the look in his eyes, she knew he was watching her every move. "Though the news of his demise is nothing new to you, is it?"

Lothíriel bit her lower lip before nodding. "I met him when he visited this city a year ago." She was about to explain how she knew Théodred more when a group of stable hands and Rohirrim entered, drawing both her and Éomer's attention away. As she peered through the doors, she noticed how much the sun had risen and decided it would be best to return home before she was missed by her father. She began to bid Éomer farewell, but he was distracted by the riders who were all speaking to him in their native tongue. So, without a word, she slipped out of the stables and hastily made her way back to her home.

* * *

Éowyn stood in the guest quarters and looked in amazement at the closet full of dresses. She had wondered at what she would wear once she had left the House of Healing since the only clothes she had brought with her was her armor. But now, over ten dresses in varying colors and hues hung there, ready for her inspection. When a quick knock sounded at the door, she bid the visitor to enter. As the door opened, she saw the familiar image of her brother.

"Éomer!" She leapt into a tight embrace. He returned it, but more gently. "I am not some fragile doll that will break when I am held brother." She leaned up and kissed his cheek before letting go. "And how can I thank you for an entire new wardrobe?"

Éomer looked in surprise towards Éowyn's wardrobe. "You shouldn't thank me, for I had nothing to do with it. Perhaps it was Aragorn." He studied the rest of the room which was decorated in varying hues of white and green. "I'm glad to see that you are settling in well. Aragorn told me that if anything isn't to your liking, he will make sure that is remedied."

"I don't see anything to complain about." She smiled. "I didn't see you after your dinner at the Dol Amroth house. How did you enjoy your visit? Did you see Lothíriel? She's changed so, hasn't she?"

Éomer nodded and turned his face to gaze out the window. "Yes, she has." His voice indicated that he was distracted and Éowyn wondered at what had occurred, but from what she could see in his eyes, she knew he wouldn't share it until he was ready.

"Well," she cleared her voice, drawing back Éomer's attention, "Do you suppose it's safe enough to ride Windfola? I know it's only been a week since the Pelennor Fields were cleared of all the dead orcs and such, but it's been such a long time since I've been able to feel the wind against my skin."

"So long as you do not travel without an escort, I trust you to be safe." Éomer squeezed Éowyn's hand and she let out a joyous yell before embracing her brother again. "Just make sure to stay away from the woods until Aragorn and his rangers declare that it is indeed safe." He kissed the top of her head. "I cannot stay for long. Aragorn has called a meeting and I just came to see you settled. If you have need, send for me." He stepped away and exited the room.

"Be sure to thank Aragorn for me!" She shouted after him, the only response was her brother's laughter.

* * *

As Éomer walked down the halls, servants and nobles alike bowed to him. It was still something that made him slightly uncomfortable. All his life he had expected to be nothing more than a Marshal and Rider of Rohan, but now, here he stood, Lord and Master of the Mark. His mind drew back to the previous evening when he had met with Lothíriel in the garden. She had so easily agreed to regard him not as a king, but as a rider and friend as they had been during their travels across the country.

She seemed to be a strange combination of the same child he had met, and a stranger who didn't seem to fit in her own country. Perhaps in Rohan… Éomer shook his head, wondering where that thought had come from so suddenly. He didn't have long to contemplate on it because within a minute, he stood outside the great, marbled throne room. As soon as he entered, he saw Aragorn waiting.

"My friend," Aragorn called out with a smile. "I hope all is well with your sister?"

"Indeed," Éomer returned the smile, "and she sends her thanks for the beautiful rooms and dresses."

"It is not I who should be the receiver of either your or her thanks, for I left her quarters up to another. I knew that the Éowyn and Lothíriel were friends and that Lothíriel had been to Rohan in the past, so I asked if she would be willing to spend some time making her rooms comfortable." Aragorn said. Before Éomer had a chance to respond, Faramir, Legolas and Gimli entered followed by two rangers Éomer had not met before.

"Greetings King Aragorn," Faramir bowed, "and King Éomer. We bring tidings from Ithilien." As Faramir began listing off the findings of the rangers as well as the count of orcs estimated to be left, Éomer found his mind wandering. He thought again of Lothíriel. He pictured her as she had been standing alone in the moonlight, fiddling with the stray curl. He wondered at how long she would have remained, silent under the silvery light of the moon. He also marveled at how she had looked that morning as she was standing in the stables and smiling shyly at him before disappearing without a sound the moment he turned his back. He imagined her remembering not only his homeland, but working to portray it for his sister. It then struck him. Lothíriel had been the one to ensure Éowyn had dresses to wear until at least she could return to Rohan. Not only had she done it, but she had not drawn attention to her generosity.

* * *

Lothíriel watched as the ship that would carry her brother back to Dol Amroth pull away from the harbor. The wind was particularly strong and the day was beginning to warm under the spring sun. Finally turning away from the river, she pulled herself up onto Hazelfal. The horse and rider waited patiently as her father and the rest of their company readied themselves to depart once again for the White City.

They were half way across the fields when Lothíriel spotted another party of riders. It didn't take long before she could make out the rider as Éowyn, and when the Rohir noticed Lothíriel, she shifted her direction to meet her. Lothíriel guided Hazelfal to the outside of the guards just as Éowyn reined in her horse.

"Not even a full day out of the House of Healing and you're already on a horse?" Lothíriel laughed lightly. "You Rohirrim are certainly formidable."

"I'm glad to finally be allowed on a horse, let alone leave the city." Éowyn returned her smile. "Perhaps you would like to join us as we simply enjoy the day." Lothíriel turned to her father who nodded before directing a few Swan-Knights from his company to attend the party from Rohan.

"I would love that." Lothíriel walked Hazelfal until she was at Éowyn's side. Within moments, they were galloping away from the city and across the expansive plains. Lothíriel watched as Éowyn urged her horse to move quicker and laughed joyfully as it followed her command. Lothíriel tried to keep up, but it was a lost cause. Hazelfal was no match for a horse of Rohan. Eventually they reached the edge of the forest of Ithilien where Éowyn was waiting for them. The party halted and dismounted and a picnic of bread, cheese and wine was produced from the saddlebags.

"I heard that you had left the city to bid your brother goodbye, and thought I might run into you and make excellent use of the morning cheering you up as you have done so already." Éowyn patted the ground beside her and held up a wineskin. Lothíriel sat next to her in the soft grass, taking the offered drink. The sun had truly begun to shine and with it came a hint of what the warmth would be in the summer.

After a few minutes of silence, Éowyn cleared her throat, drawing Lothíriel's attention. "So, you seem to have had an impact on my brother." Lothíriel felt the heat rushing to her face.

"I'm sure he simply was surprised to see me." She tried to hide her blush, but from the smile on Éowyn's face, she knew she was unsuccessful.

"It seems he had a bit of an impact on you as well." She reached over and squeezed Lothíriel's hand lightly. Lothíriel gave Éowyn a small smile that was returned to her immediately.

"Perhaps," Lothíriel began, "though I doubt anything will come of it." She sighed lightly. Éowyn opened her mouth to say something when from the woods behind them, a wave of black arrows shot out. They shot over both Lothíriel and Éowyn's head and hit several of their guards as well as the horses. The screams from the creatures was a terrifying sound. Éowyn had already jumped up and grabbed a nearby sword, her face turned towards the line of trees that hid their ambushers.

"My ladies," one of the Swan-Knights stood in front of them. "You need to return to the city!"

"Have you forgotten who I am?" Éowyn's chin and sword lifted slightly in defiance.

"Not at all, Shieldmaiden, but the Lady Lothíriel is no warrior. Please return to the city and call for reinforcements." He locked eyes with Éowyn until she nodded and sheathed her sword and pulled Lothíriel towards the horses that were still unhurt. Lothíriel spotted Hazelfal, lying on the ground, with four arrows sticking out of his limp body. A piece of her wanted to run to her dead horse but she knew it would do no good. She only hesitated a few moments before Éowyn was pulling on her arm and they raced towards Éowyn's horse.

Lothíriel came up behind Éowyn and just as they were beginning their escape across the plains, Lothíriel turned and saw the orcs tumbling out of the trees. One of the creatures saw her and took aim. Just as the arrow loosed, Lothíriel closed her eyes and prayed they were out of his range. They continued thundering over the plains and eventually Lothíriel opened her eyes to see that the figures of the men and orcs were growing smaller and smaller while the White City grew bigger.

Just as the group behind them was out of sight, Lothíriel spotted another group of riders. It was Éomer and Faramir, followed closely by a group of heavily armed riders and rangers. As soon as they spotted the two women on the lone horse, they shifted and sped towards each other. The closer Éomer came, Lothíriel could see he was scanning both women for injuries. Éowyn didn't wait for her brother to ask before shouting.

"It was an ambush!" She pointed back towards where they had set up their picnic. "Mordor orcs." Éomer nodded and called forward two riders and giving them quick instructions before turning his group towards the ongoing battle.

* * *

The door to Éowyn's chamber flew open and both women turned in anticipation. Éomer's presence seemed to fill the entire room as he looked carefully at both Éowyn's face and Lothíriel's. Finally, he stepped through the entrance, speaking quietly.

"I asked you to stay away from the forest," he ran his hands through his hair, visibly trying to keep his temper, "and what is the first thing you do?" Éowyn's chin lifted defiantly. "You went to the edge of that very forest." His eyes fell back onto Lothíriel before continuing. "And to make matters worse, you not only endangered yourself, but that of Lothíriel." Éowyn's obstinance began to falter.

"It was such a beautiful day, and with the extra guards from Dol Amroth along with the riders from Rohan, I thought we would be safe." Éowyn's voice was quiet. Éomer sighed and gathered his sister in his arms. After a few moments of silence, he let go of Éowyn and stepped towards Lothíriel.

"You are well?" He took her hand gently. She nodded, a somber expression painted on her face. "Please let me escort you back to your home." She stood, not once letting go of his hand, and followed him wordlessly out into the corridor.

* * *

Lothíriel stood outside the gate leading to her home. The familiar image of two Swan-ships meeting each other was partially blocked by the Éomer's broad frame. He had turned to look at her, though he hadn't said a single word since leaving the palace. His eyes were warm and sincere, yet stoic as he finally opened his mouth to speak.

"I am glad that you were not hurt, though one of your knights said that your horse was killed in the initial attack." His voice was barely above a whisper. "I am sorry for your loss." Lothíriel felt tears beginning to pool in her eyes, though she blinked them away before nodding.

"Thank you." Her voice seemed to be caught in her throat as she pictured again the image of Hazelfal laying on the ground. She cleared her throat before asking, "I hope you and your men were unhurt in the battle."

"Your concern is sweetly given, but unnecessary." He let out a self-deprecating chuckle. "The men of the mark, as well as the rangers I was with, are used to attacks from orcs and evil men alike." The noise of someone's approach on the other side of the gate sounded. Éomer bent forward, scooping up Lothíriel's hand and pressing his warm lips against her knuckles before whispering, "Try to be safe in the future. I don't know what I would do if something were to happen to you." He straightened and before Lothíriel had any chance to respond, he was moving swiftly back towards the palace.


	24. Chapter 24

Chapter 24

Minas Tirith

May 3019

Lothíriel felt the cold water running over her hands as she scrubbed away the sweat and grime from her busy day in the House of Healing. Most of the injured warriors had completely healed, but due to the large numbers of wounded and sick following the war, many herbs and resources had been depleted. Lothíriel, as well as a few other healers-in-training were tasked with going through the herb gardens. It was long work, but she knew it was necessary, for although the war had ended, people still became ill and injured while working to renew the city. A knock on the door behind her sounded and she called out for them to enter.

"Little sister, ever the hard worker." A familiar voice said softly. Lothíriel whirled around, excited to face her unexpected guest.

"Erchirion!" She ran forward and hugged her brother. "What are you doing here?"

"Well, with Elphir at home, I was no longer needed to run Dol Amroth, and thought it was high time I came to see you." He kissed her lightly on the cheek. "I also am looking forward to seeing our new king. It has been some time since I saw him last since he hadn't returned to Rivendell before we left."

"Well, you'll have the chance tonight. The coronation ball is supposedly going to be very grand. Nearly every noble is here to be officially recognized." She took a seat beside the window. "But what news of Meira and Dol Amroth?"

Erchirion sat beside her, his smile growing wider. "Meira delivered a little girl a few days before I left Dol Amroth. And the city itself has been left untouched from corsairs and the like. Father was right to install the Beleg Gwî when he did, for it has done its job very well in deterring anyone unwelcome from trying to sail into our bay. Because of that as well, our crop fields have been left alone and we will be able to aid those who are in need of grain and the like from the Orc attacks before the winter comes."

"I am glad that we will be able to be of aid." She returned to the scrubbing of her hands.

"I know my excuse for not attending the actual coronation was due to poor luck and winds, thus my late arrival in general, but when father mentioned that you decided to work rather than go, I must admit to some surprise." He paused, "Are you alright?"

Lothíriel smiled to herself at how perceptive Erchirion had always been with her. "I'm fine." She discovered that although Erchirion had always been her greatest confidant – mostly because she had spent so much time in his company while they lived with the elves – she did not want to discuss her feelings about Éomer with him. "The work in the House of Healing takes priority. I am certain that if anyone understands that, it is King Elessar, seeing as he was raised by Lord Elrond."

Erchirion let out a soft sigh, "I see your meaning." He came up behind her and kissed the top of her head gently. "Well, I'm glad that you'll be going to the ball. I must see to it I am properly bathed for such an event." He chuckled to himself before striding out of the room.

* * *

Éomer stood in the midst of the great hall of Merethond as music and quiet conversation filled the air. Across the room was Aragorn, formally known now as King Elessar, along with his sister and her new betrothed. Éomer liked Faramir – he had a soothing presence and seemed to always know the right thing to say to calm Éowyn whenever her temper began to show. Seeing the couple standing so close, Éomer's mind began to drift towards Lothíriel.

They had hardly seen each other since their last encounter, for he had been incredibly busy making sure the remaining orcs and other enemies were being hunted down, while she always seemed to be busy with some task in the House of Healing. Éowyn had gone down to help her on occasion, though he wondered at how helpful his warrior-like sister had been. She would come back wreathed in smiles with news of her friend and Éomer hated that he envied her for the time the two women had shared. His musings were cut short as a group of giggling ladies passed by, each giving him knowing looks, hoping to be invited into a conversation. When he did not, most of them continued on their way, but one hung back.

"King Éomer," she fanned herself delicately, "it is such a shame that you have been left all alone when such a merry event is taking place." She smiled at him and continued speaking. He half listened and eventually found himself considering the differences between this woman and Lothíriel. While the common look on Lothíriel's face was one of innocence, the lady before him was full of pride and a feeling of knowledge in things best left for dark corners and private quarters. Her smile offered things he knew of, though thought it best not to imagine. Another difference was that her face was painted and powdered so that it looked almost a deathly pale and her hair, which was a deep brown, was intricately piled on top of her head in a series of braids and pins. Éomer wondered if it was because of Lothíriel's time spent with the elves but Lothíriel almost always had most of her hair loose unless it was in a single braid running down the length of her back. It was one of the many things he liked about her.

"My lord?" The lady seemed to realize that he had not been listening. She couldn't hide the look of annoyance in her eyes. "Perhaps you are waiting for someone else?" Her mouth pinched with the bottom lip puckering out slightly in what was obviously meant to be attractive but only made Éomer think of a spoiled child.

Éomer thought about keeping the truth from the lady for a moment, but he was a man of the Mark and they were always honest. "I am."

"I see." She turned her face away from him puckering the bottom lip further. "And who, if I may ask, are you waiting for?" As if on cue, Prince Imrahil and Lothíriel entered the hall, followed by one of her brothers.

"The Princess Lothíriel of Dol Amroth." Éomer bowed swiftly to the lady before hastening off to greet the princess.

* * *

"It seems your brother and my cousin are causing quite the stir among the noblewomen here." Faramir's quiet voice called Éowyn and Aragorn's attention away from the conversation they were sharing with one of the Rohirrim who had joined the Gondorian festivities. They turned just in time to see Éomer bowing before Lothíriel's hand. Around them, nobles watched while several women worked to hide looks of irritation behind their fans and faked smiles. Éowyn smiled to herself.

"I think they would make a good match." Aragorn's voice was just as quiet as Faramir's had been. "I knew Lothíriel when she stayed in Rivendell and she has the temperament that should be able to calm the tumultuous rapids of Éomer's temper. And on the other hand, he has such a spirit that seems to have renewed life into Lothíriel. When I first met with her after arriving in this city, I could hardly tell she was the same person. Being in Minas Tirith seems to have taken a toll on her."

"But will they be able to discover their beneficial qualities within the constraints of the court?" Éowyn pursed her lips. "Everything in this country is so stiff. Nearly no one shows their true selves as they hide behind powders and fans. If this were Rohan, it would be settled before we had a chance to blink, but not here." She let out a heavy sigh.

"My dear," Faramir reached over and grasped her hand lightly, "we found each other, so surely it is not unbelievable that they might understand their own hearts as well as each other's before too long." With that, Faramir and Aragorn turned away and began discussing other things, though Éowyn paid them no mind. She simply stared at the couple as they interacted. As she watched, an idea formed.

Several of Rohan's women of the court that had traveled most of the way with the men before their race to Minas Tirith had arrived in time for the coronation. As such, the encampment that the Rohirrim had outside the city was full of enough people to stir up a few dances and songs. She had wanted Lothíriel to be able to experience a true celebration of Rohan and having Éomer there as well would no doubt raise the morale to a new height. Without a second thought, Éowyn stepped away from Faramir and Aragon and strode towards her brother and friend.

* * *

Lothíriel dismounted from the brown gelding she had taken from her father's stables and looked in amazement at the colorful display of tents that were pitched all around her. Some young men came forward and took the reins of her horse and those of her brothers before tethering them to a nearby hitch rope. A plethora of fair-haired men and women walked and talked in the hitching, guttural tones of Rohirric. Among them were a few Gondorians who had heard of the event and decided to attend. Further ahead, she could hear the plucking of stringed instruments accompanied by the trill of flutes as well as hearty laughter. As she wandered towards the center of the camp, she was readily greeted by many of the Rohirrim.

"The people of Rohan are certainly less reserved than that of Gondor." Amrothos' whisper was accompanied by a small smile. "I suppose that irritated Erchirion when he first traveled there."

"Among other things," Erchirion pursed his lips slightly before turning his gaze to Lothíriel. "How did you ever convince me that it was a good idea for me to come?"

"Oh hush," Lothíriel chided good-naturedly, "you will find someone or something to make the trip down worthwhile, of that I am certain." Before Erchirion or Amrothos could say anything in response, she spotted both Éowyn and Éomer standing together. She and her brothers were quickly spotted as well as a smile lit Éowyn's face.

"I thought you'd never arrive!" Éowyn shouted, drawing everyone's attention. She picked up her skirts and raced towards Lothíriel, stopping directly in front of her and embracing Lothíriel warmly. After letting Lothíriel go, she greeted the two princes and led them towards the inner circle where Éomer had remained. Once Lothíriel was close enough, he took Lothíriel's hand gently and brought her knuckles to his lips. Lothíriel could feel her face flushing as eyes watched her every move.

"I am so glad to see you once again." His eyes, which were warm and shimmered in the firelight, drew her in, allowing her to forget – at least a little bit – the attention that felt so embarrassing. The music that had stopped at Éowyn's outburst began to start slowly, recalling everyone to their earlier mood.

A large bonfire lit up the surrounding area so that it seemed as if the day hadn't ended even though the moon hung in the sky above them. The music picked up and many of the people partnered up and began to dance. The dance was not the stiff and formal promenade that was so common among the Gondorian balls, but instead the partners held each other closely so that it seemed as if it were not two separate people, but one combined person. Some of the Rohirrim that were not dancing clapped along with the music while others sang in their native tongue, giving the overall dance a jovial and spirited air.

"Now this is what I call a celebration!" Éowyn clapped and laughed. Lothíriel smiled, as the joyful feeling seemed to seep into her very bones. Erchirion stood at her side and watched coolly as he sipped from a cup one of the Rohir warriors had handed him. Amrothos – who had so often been called away from the balls and other celebrations due to his duties – had not fought as a young woman excitedly pulled him into a dance. Lothíriel tried hard not to laugh as Amrothos nearly stumbled over the young woman again and again. Eventually the song ended and Amrothos bowed deeply to his partner before returning to where Lothíriel and Erchirion stood.

"What fun!" Amrothos laughed. "I can't imagine many Gondorian nobles have enjoyed the excitement of dancing like a man of Rohan has." He clapped Erchirion on the shoulder. "You ought to try it brother. Perhaps then you will not seem so overcast."

"I dare say I should remain content watching you trip over you and your partner's feet instead of falling over my own." Erchirion sniffed.

"Then perhaps you, sister?" Amrothos turned towards Lothíriel and she could feel the her face heating.

"Don't be silly. I don't know any of the steps. I'd probably end up bruising my poor partner's toes or worse, topple them entirely."

"Éomer is a wonderful dancer," Éowyn chirped, "and he can handle any bruised toes you have in store." Lothíriel's gaze followed Éowyn's indication and stared up into his eyes.

"It would be an honor to introduce you to the way my people enjoy a celebration." He took Lothíriel's hand and began guiding her into the heart of dancers preparing for the next song. "Do not worry," he whispered, "just trust me and follow my lead and I won't let you look foolish."

The dance began slowly at first as low notes were plucked from taught strings. Lothíriel wondered if everyone could hear her racing heart as she was pulled into what could only be called an embrace and was guided to and fro. The high notes of flutes sounded and like the first summer rains. The dance suddenly quickened and Lothíriel's heart no longer beat in her chest due to any embarrassment, but it was because of the thrill of spinning at dizzying speeds and the quick steps that Éomer guided her expertly through. There was a simple joy in dancing with Éomer. Being pressed up against him. He stood so straight and tall he seemed as sturdy as an oak that would not be felled except under the greatest of effort preformed.

Un-beckoned, a laugh leapt from her throat which was joined by Éomer's own laughter. Although her heart beat wildly in her chest, she could also feel the rhythm of his marching in tandem with her. She let her eyes wander towards Éomer's face. Their eyes locked onto each other and nothing else seemed to exist outside of the music and themselves. They spun on and on and Lothíriel wondered if it would ever end, but at the same time, she wished it wouldn't.

Around and around they spun, seeing nothing and no one besides each other until, at long last, the music concluded. She continued to stare up into Éomer's face as she struggled to breath normally. A gentle breeze blew past Éomer and his scent wafted towards Lothíriel. It was an earthy smell – one that reminded her of the plains she had seen as a child – as well as coupled with the slight smell of a horse and leather though he wasn't wearing his leather armor. The mixture of smells, although very different from the smells of oils and soaps that the nobles of Gondor typically used, was very pleasant and slightly exotic and she wondered at why she had never noticed it before.

Without meaning to, her vision focused on his lips. They were surrounded by a beard that was only slightly darker than the golden hair atop his head. The hard line that they usually took had softened as he held her against him with a small smile turning up the corners. Before she even thought about what she was doing, she leaned up and touched her own lips to his.


	25. Chapter 25

Chapter 25

Minas Tirith

May 3019

The kiss was soft, gentle and slightly hesitant. On Lothíriel's lips, Éomer could taste the honeyed mead she had sipped from a cup before their dance along with what he figured was her own unique taste. A quiet moan escaped from her lips and Éomer lost any sense of propriety and etiquette he had been desperate to hold onto. Pulling her even tighter into his embrace, he guided her arms around his neck to help her balance herself against him before deepening the kiss. His fingers tangled in the loose locks of her hair as he cradled the back of her head in one of his hands. She didn't struggle against him, rather, she seemed to melt into every crevice of his body as if the two of them were truly melding together.

Finally, his senses returned to him and he realized how they were surrounded not only by his countrymen but Lothíriel's as well. He broke their contact and Lothíriel opened her eyes. Her eyes were glassed over and he could see a heat and desire within them that stirred his own deep want. She blinked once. Twice. Her eyes cleared as she no doubt remembered where she was, and understood what she had just done. Around them there was utter silence. Her face flamed bright red as she began to back away from Éomer. Her heel caught on the train of her dress and she nearly fell backwards except he reached out and steadied her.

"I- er," she looked around as some of the people began to whisper to each other. The Rohirrim's expressions were mainly that of joy and excitement while the few Gondorian men and women who had attended were shocked and dismayed at the public display of affection.

"- especially with a man she's not even betrothed to." One of the Gondorian women stated. It was clear that Lothíriel could hear her because tears began to pool in her eyes, though they never spilled over.

"I think we should go." Erchirion's voice rang up clearly and he stepped forward, encircling Lothíriel under the protection of his arm before quickly and skillfully guiding her back through the mess of tents until they were out of Éomer's sight. He simply stood, pinned to the spot. Her taste still lingering on his lips.

* * *

"Well you certainly staked your claim." Amrothos teased. He had thankfully waited until they were home to speak, allowing Lothíriel to process what she had done during the ride back.

"She did more than stake a claim," Erchirion's voice was a great deal less amiable than Amrothos'. "What were you thinking?" His eyes bored into her.

"I don't know. It just felt right." She paused.

"It just felt right?" Erchirion sank into an armchair across from where Lothíriel was sitting.

"Well," Amrothos' chipper voice was in stark contradiction to the tension in the room, "what's done is done and there is nothing we can do to change the past."

"Yes, but what are we going to tell Father?" Erchirion turned his attention to his brother. "We cannot wait for him to find out on his own, and he will if we don't tell him quickly. The news that Princess Lothíriel of Dol Amroth kissed a king in full view of not only his countrymen, but several of Gondor's elite will be the gossip for weeks at least!"

"I'm sorry," Lothíriel turned her face away and the light from the fire caught the glint of wetness on her cheeks. Immediately Erchirion softened. He stood and strode over to his sister, placing his hand under her chin, he guided her to look back up to him.

"Perhaps you have been in the city too long. I know how much you love Dol Amroth. You should return. See Meira and their newborn. Be near the sea again."

"You would have her leave the man she loves?" Amrothos interjected. Erchirion felt his irritation growing.

"Love? They have known each other for such a short time and seen each other even less unless I'm mistaken." He shook his head. "No. Love does not grow so quickly as a weed. It must be nurtured over a long period of time, like with Elphir and Meira." He returned his focus to Lothíriel. "For tonight, go and rest. We will speak with Father at breakfast."

Silence fell on the room until they heard the latch on Lothíriel's door click into place. "She does love him you know, and he loves her." Amrothos leaned against the wall beside the fireplace.

"What I saw tonight was not a man in love. I saw a man filled with lust as well as an infatuated innocent girl." His anger heated as he remembered the way Éomer had touched his sister.

"Well that innocent girl is the one who initiated the kiss." Amrothos' voice had lowered as he faced he fire, rather than continue to look at his brother.

"If he loved her like you say he does, then he would have a care for her reputation. He allowed himself to be carried away in the heat of the moment."

"Love can be passionate."

"He has scandalized her." Erchirion ignored Amrothos' point. "How on earth is she to find a decent husband after news of that display comes about? He should know that after this, whenever a noble looks at her, they will see a woman with loose morals."

"He is from another country. Their customs are surely different from our own."

"Still –" Erchirion began another point but Amrothos interrupted him.

"It is late." He straightened. "I believe everything will look better for everyone after a good night's sleep." Before Erchirion could respond, he left the room.

Erchirion sighed and fell back into the armchair. He loved his sister deeply. They had always been close, but the two of them had grown considerably closer during their time in Rivendell and he had been sorely disappointed when she had stayed in Minas Tirith after they had journeyed back. He knew it was his own fault for not visiting her while she had been forbidden to leave by their uncle. He had abandoned her for Dol Amroth and its vast libraries and sea. He knew she didn't begrudge him for it and was happy to see him now, but still, he should have visited her sooner. He had got his sister back; he didn't want to lose her so soon. As he stared into the dancing flames, that truth haunted him.

* * *

Éomer awoke before the dawn, his head pounding. He knew he had enjoyed too much of the mead brought from Rohan, especially after the Dol Amroth party had departed. This would have been a perfect day to sleep in. It had been a restless night for him but the habit of waking before the sun no matter the quality of sleep had always remained. Shaking the thoughts of the previous night away, he pushed off the heavy covers and forced himself up. He found a bowl of cold water waiting for him. He splashed his face with the water and felt his breath leave him in a rush.

The icy fingers lingered on his skin and the pounding worsened. Taking a seat he chastised himself for not having the foresight to restrain himself. The headache did not lessen until the first rays of sun began to glint over the horizon, bringing a gentle golden light into the room. He pushed himself up and made his way towards the stables. Firefoot needed to be tended to and then he would find Lothíriel in the House of Healing.

* * *

Lothíriel opened her eyes with a sigh and sat up. Light streamed in through her window. She had hardly slept a wink. Her mind had kept playing the kiss over and over in her head. Éomer's earthy taste. The smell of leather. The way his hair felt. His arms holding her so tightly she thought she might be crushed. Then, after the kiss, the shocked faces of the Gondorians. The Rohirrim had looked equally as surprised, though their countenances had seemed on the edge of pleased where the Gondorians had looked angry and scandalized. Then her conversation with Erchirion and Amrothos the night before.

Would it be best to leave for Dol Amroth? She knew in her heart that she loved Éomer, but what had she done to deserve him? And what if Erchirion was at least half right? What if Éomer didn't love her, but felt more base feelings for her? He was a man of honor and wouldn't pursue her in that manner without being wed to her, she was quite certain.

But then there still remained the other problem. She had been betrothed to his cousin. And though he had been dead for many months, she had only just found out before the end of the war. What was worse, she knew she had played a part in his death. She should have never worn the circlet. She had never loved Théodred, and so his loss had not been heartbreaking, but the weight of guilt still lingered. Certainly she had liked him and knew that a friendship would have grown had he lived and they married, but not the intense love Éomer instilled in her. She nodded as she made the decision to tell him everything.

The Rohirrim valued honesty a great deal, and perhaps Éomer would be willing to forgive her for Théodred's death. Though she dared not hope he would love her after hearing the truth.

* * *

The royal gardens of Minas Tirith were something to truly behold. Some of the pathways had hedges that were almost taller that even Éomer, while others were littered with flowers that were blooming as if proclaiming the very heart of spring. He had been sorely disappointed after going to the House of Healing to call on Lothíriel only to be told that she had been given the day off. He had decided to try and find her at her home when he caught sight of her turning into one of the hedged paths. Smiling to himself, he pursued her. She had taken a seat in the shadow of a hedge and was staring blankly towards a small fountain. As he began to approach her, he heard voices from the other side of the hedge. He didn't see them and was fairly sure they hadn't seen him. He was about to ignore them when their words caught his attention.

"So she initiated the kiss?" The voice belonged to a young man. "My goodness," he chucked, "she certainly does want to become a queen."

"Is it so surprising?" A young woman responded. "She lost out on her chance for the crown after that other prince died during the war." Her tone became bitter. "It's not as though it's much of a challenge. He seems utterly smitten with Princess Lothíriel." Éomer felt as if he had been slapped. Lothíriel's interest had been in gaining the crown?

"I had heard that she begged her crazy uncle to set up the match with Prince Theored" The man said more softly.

"It was Théodred I believe."

"It's not as if it matters. The point is, I know that she is acting specifically for King Éomer's benefit. Did you see how she behaved at the midwinter celebration? She didn't dance with anyone, not to mention she had hardly a kind word for anyone if even she spoke at all. In truth, I didn't know if she had a voice until I heard her speak in front of King Éomer."

They continued on, but Éomer had heard enough. His heart beat wildly in his chest as he looked back at the woman he thought he knew. It was true he had gotten to know her a little as a child when she had ridden through his country, but she couldn't possibly be the same woman. Had he fallen in love with a lie? Had she truly toyed with him until he was prepared to offer him not only himself but his kingdom? He could feel the heat of his temper rising. How could he have been so foolish?

Lothíriel seemed to have come out of her daze and waved at him, a warm smile on her face. It took a great effort to remind himself she didn't truly feel anything for him and with that effort his temper was further fueled. He began to leave but she called out to him.

"Éomer!" He stood rooted to the ground and turned his head back. He regarded her coldly and she stopped several feet away from where he stood, pinned by his gaze. Her smile had faded somewhat. "What's wrong?"

He faced her entirely and took long steps until he was towering over her. His words never grew louder than a whisper. "You were engaged, weren't you?" Her face grew incredibly pale as she opened her mouth, but not a sound escaped her parted lips. Finally she nodded. "To my cousin who was meant to be Rohan's King after my Uncle Théoden?" Her mouth closed as she nodded again. There was no longer even the hint of a smile on her shocked face. "I can hardly believe I nearly fell for your farce! You must have laughed at having the King of Rohan twisted around your little finger." His hand closed into a fist.

"I was going to tell you today." She finally forced out, tears spilling from her eyes. "I swear I didn't love him."

His voice grew even lower. "Of course you say you would have told me the truth. It is an easy thing to say you would admit the truth after your lies have been brought to light. And I already knew you didn't love him, just as you don't love me. Your only love was the prospect of being queen. Well I will have no more of it! And I will have no more of you." He bowed stiffly to Lothíriel. "Good day, _my lady_. We will not see each other again!" His heart was heavy in his chest as he watched her knees give way and she sank to the ground. She stared forward at him dumbly. He reminded himself again that she had deceived him and was only trying to ply at his compassion with the lie of a broken heart. Forcing himself to tear his eyes from her, he turned and strode out of the gardens, not caring who was watching.

* * *

Lothíriel watched him leave the gardens. Everything in her wanted to chase after him. Explain herself and how she did truly love him, but his eyes had been so cold. Tears ran down her cheeks, as she struggled to regain her composure. She heard someone approaching from behind her, but she did not turn or acknowledge their presence. Finally the person stopped directly behind her.

"Lothíriel?" The light, familiar voice was so unexpected that Lothíriel faced the newcomer. It was none other that Glorfindel. "My goodness! What has happened?"

This time when she opened her mouth, she was not mute. Sobs began wrack her body. "He is gone. It's all my fault. He's gone." Glorfindel reached down and helped her up, keeping her steady.

"Let us return to you home, my dear. You can refresh yourself there." They continued until they had left the gardens.

"No." She stiffened. "I am sick of this city." She began to feel herself crumple again. "I just want to go home. My real home."

* * *

Near-Harad

May 3019

Yusraa rushed into Na'man's tent. As she entered, many of the men who had joined him earlier turned in a rush, some even reaching for their curved daggers at the sudden and unexpected entrance. After seeing it was the enchantress, most of them lowered their weapons though some continued to hold them as they watched her suspiciously. Na'man looked calmly at her but something in his eyes warned at his displeasure at being disturbed.

"What is it Yusraa?" He sighed as he stood from behind a table laden with maps.

"My ravens have been watching the Oracle as you instructed me to upon your return." At her words, his eyes lit.

"And?"

"There is an opportunity, though I know not how great, to retrieve her." She watched as he moved from behind the desk until he was directly in front of her. "She is currently leaving the protection of the White City and is heavy of heart and will more easily be moved by my," she paused, "persuasions."

"You have done well." A sneering smile spread on his lips. "Nild!" He barked. A slave boy entered the tent, his face downcast. "Ready four horses for immediate travel." The boy bowed, saying nothing as he backed out of the tent. "Yusraa," he turned his attention back onto the enchantress. "Be ready to leave within the hour. The gods have blessed us that we received this news when we are already so close to the border! I will have the Oracle before the middle of summer." Yusraa turned and left, the sound of Na'man's triumphant laugh sounding out from behind her.


	26. Chapter 26

Chapter 26

Minas Tirith

May 3019

Éomer stared from his high window, although it had been hours since a ship with the figurehead of a swan had departed for Dol Amroth along with Lothíriel. His heart had ached as he watched the woman he loved riding away from him. He chastised himself for his feelings. How could he still love a woman who had deceived him? Had wanted to use him for her own means?

"Who knew that my older brother was such a fool?" Éomer turned to see Éowyn storming into his quarters. He turned to a pile of letters and maps laying on a nearby desk, in no mood to be chastised by his sister.

"You forget yourself, Éowyn. You are speaking to your King." His voice was rough from the contained emotion.

"No I'm not." She came to the opposite side of the desk from him, placing herself directly in his view. "I'm speaking to my foolish brother who can't seem to know a good thing if it had bitten him in his arse!"

"Éowyn!" His temper began to rise.

"She loves you! No matter her past betrothal." She touched his arm lightly, but he wretched it away.

"What would you know of it?" He yelled, standing tall over his sister. Éowyn squared her shoulders and pointed a slender finger at him.

"More than you, evidently. She would have explained her side, of that I am sure. Lothíriel is many things, but the outright liar you have seemed to paint her as in your mind is not one of them!" Her eyes burned, matching Éomer's anger. "I'm sure you didn't consider that she was basically forced to agree to the arranged marriage, on pain of watching her brothers and father, her only family mind you, sent to the front lines!"

"How do you know of this?" He turned, facing the cold, empty fireplace.

"She told me while we worked together in the House of Healing." Éowyn's voice softened. "She didn't tell me all, of that I am sure, but from what I do know she wanted to tell you herself."

"She should have then." He stubbornly held onto the feeling of a hurt heart, but he could hear the wisdom in Éowyn's words. He knew he was at fault for listening to gossipmongers and then not allowing Lothíriel to speak her piece when she was confronted.

"Did you even give her a chance? Or did you decide you'd received enough information from the gossips?" She sighed. "You are a fool, brother." She once again placed her hand on his arm, though this time he didn't shake it off.

"I need time to think." He looked at Éowyn, his temper already beginning to lessen. A small smile pulled at the corners of her mouth as she saw him push his fingers through his hair. "Perhaps I will write to her after we have returned to Rohan. In that letter, I will make sure to apologize for not hearing her side of the truth."

She nodded. "I would suggest you do it now, before the day is out. Broken hearts are dangerous things to leave untended." She stretched upwards and kissed his cheek before leaving him to his thoughts.

* * *

Dol Amroth

June 3019

Lothíriel stared out melancholically from the window. The sea sparkled in the noon sun like a sapphire but the beautiful day did nothing to improve her mood. It had been nearly two weeks since she had left Minas Tirith with hardly a word. Her father had agreed that it was for the best that she leave after hearing of her scandalous kiss. Pulling her knees up to her chest, she allowed herself to play it over in her head. Every time she imagined it, her heart grew weary and she wished she could have forgotten it, and everything leading to it. She wanted to move on, but knew it wouldn't happen. Éomer had taken up permanent residence in her heart.

A knock sounded at the door. She went to open it and saw Erchirion. His expression darkened slightly when he saw her. She knew what he saw. She had hardly eaten or left the castle since they had arrived and she knew by the fit of her dress she was beginning to lose weight. She wanted to eat, but whenever food was presented to her all appetite fled.

"I swear, I have half a mind to go back to Minas Tirith and give that man a piece of my mind!" He entered her room and forced several curtains back allowing the sunshine to enter unrestricted. "What did that fool say to make you act like this!"

"It's nothing I didn't deserve." She slowly stepped towards the bed and started to drawback the blankets.

"Oh no you don't!" Erchirion caught her by the wrist. "Ever since we left Minas Tirith you have done little else than waste away in a bed. I will not allow you to fade away." He pulled her into a tight embrace. Tears she was too tired to shed began to burn her eyes. "You need an occupation. You did well with Amrothos in the House of Healing back in Minas Tirith, and I'm sure that Master Hëmond would be more than happy to have your help."

"No, I cannot stand to be in the House of Healing." She was certain that the smells of pungent herbs and patients waiting to be treated would torment her with memories of Éomer and his sister. She wondered what Éowyn thought of her. Did she think her a manipulative girl who had misused her brother? Whatever the case, she doubted she would ever see them again.

"What about a ride? We could even go down to the stables and you could look at the new yearlings and find the one you would like to be your new mount as soon as it is old enough." He sighed as she shook her head again. "Well," he grabbed her wrist and began to pull her after him, "I know one thing for certain. I will not allow you to spend one more minute in this room!" Dragging her behind him, he marched down halls where servants stopped and watched them pass. Finally making it to the courtyard, he ushered her to a path that led down to the sea. "Go and tell your troubles to the sea. If I remember correctly, you only ever wanted to be near the sea in Rivendell. Well now you can, so go!" He shouted and crossed his arms, a hard expression on his face.

When she saw he would not allow her to return, she sighed heavily and shuffled down towards the waiting beach in solitude. The sands were a dazzling white and several colored shells had washed up as if they were jewels adorning pale skin. The tide was low and so she was able to look into the little pools left behind. There were more shells here, though some of them were clearly occupied. Dipping her hand in, she pulled out one of the empty shells that was a rich green color. Sitting back on her haunches, she held it up until the sun filtered through it. The color transferred to the sand as if she were holding up colored glass. Her mind wandered back to the sea of grass that she once expected to call home. She had known ever since the news of Théodred's death that her visions didn't always come true, and now she knew her latest one would never be a reality.

She had been on a horse with a coat of deep grey. And beyond her lay Rohan's endless countryside. Looking to her right she saw a handsome young man with dark hair and deep blue eyes. The same blue as Éomer's own eyes. Turning to her right she saw Éomer atop his own giant, ashen horse. His golden hair grown lighter into an almost white. On his face were lines that belonged to a man who had seen many years. Reaching over, he took her hand in his own and squeezed lightly. Her own hands had a thin, papery quality to them but she felt a smile pulling at her lips. No words were exchanged as he returned the smile. She had just come out of the vision and seen Éomer standing in the garden. He had seemed tense, but had not considered what was bound to happen after approaching him.

She stood and faced the open sea. "I wouldn't have belonged there. Someone who played any part in the death of his beloved relative doesn't deserve to receive love." She threw the shell with all her might into the waves. It flew through the air and landed with a small splash. The tide was growing higher and she waited for the surf to reach her toes.

She would have stayed there for many hours, perhaps even after the sea had fully risen with the tide, but the sound of shuffling feathers distracted her. Thinking it was a pelican or gull, she looked towards the bird. It was nothing of the sort. A raven with wings that were so black they almost looked blue stood perched on a piece of driftwood near her. It looked at her as if studying her for a long moment. Opening it's beak, she waited for the sound of it's call, but it never came.

_Come_. It was the voice of a woman. The sands shifted under Lothíriel and she lost her balance and tipped backwards, a piece of fabric from her dress caught on splinter of the wood and ripped as she fell. The bird shuffled it's wings, recalling her full attention. _Come with me_. The bird took flight and Lothíriel felt herself being pulled to her feet, though no one stood with her. The voice lingered near her, though the raven circled over her head many feet above. _Come, come, come to me_. It seemed to chant over and over and the bird slowly circled. down the beach line. _Come to me, and I will make your heart light_. The whispered promise seemed to echo within her own mind and she no longer heard the sea crashing against the rocks. Her feet pulled her forward, as if they had a mind of their own. Her mind seemed to enter a fog where she forgot everything but the voice.

"Come." She mouthed the words as she heard them again and again. "Come to me." Before she even realized it, she was far from the castle and even the harbor. She had trailed after the bird without any thought except to follow its command. Finally the bird stopped circling and dropped flew down into the trees of the forest. Lothíriel rushed through the thick underbrush, searching for the raven.

"It seems as though your efforts and charms have worked." Lothíriel heard a man's voice, but her mind was still in too much of a fog to really care though a part of her knew she should. Her eyes looked through branches and saw nothing until the sharp call of raven drew her attention. Directly in front of her stood a woman with the raven on her shoulder.

"Come to me." Her voice was the same she had heard through the raven. The woman had dark, smooth skin and grey hair that fell in waves to her ankles. On her hands were deep yellow, fingerless gloves with a single white gem. A similar gem rested on her forehead with two smaller one's dangling from it. Her eyes were a deep shade of purple but within them Lothíriel could see flicks of gold. The woman held out her hand and she took it, fully entranced.

A man came into view and smiled. A feeling of caution lodged itself in Lothíriel and she began to back away, but the woman's grip on her hand was like iron. "We meet at last, Oracle." That did it. The title she had heard as a child escaped his lips and the spell was broken.

"Who are you?" She panicked as she tried to wrench her hand out of the woman's grasp. "What do you want with me? Please let me go." With the swift speed of a cat descending on a mouse, the woman grabbed her other hand and forced their eyes to connect.

"I am here to take you where your heart will face no more troubles. Trust me." The golden flecks in her eyes were hypnotizing and her voice was like that of a mother soothing a babe who had woken from a nightmare. Against her will, she felt her arms relaxing. "You will no longer face any loss or pain if you come with me. Come." Lothíriel felt herself beginning to fade back into the fog. She tried to fight it desperately, but a secret part of her wanted to believe the woman and give in. Wanted to leave her despair and guilt behind. That piece within her began to grow as the woman spoke. Until finally she was once again completely in a daze.

* * *

Yusraa kept her hands on the Oracle's but turned her eyes away after she had taken on a blank stare. Keeping her voice calm she addressed Na'man. "My lord, so long as you wish to proceed traveling without being noticed, I would advise you wait to speak until we have made sure we are far enough from any possibility of being discovered. I have her under my spell, but it is still fragile and will continue to be until we have returned to Târêt where I have the assistance of my potions." Na'man nodded, going back to where their horses were tied.

Just as they had discussed during their travels, Yusraa whispered words in a tongue very few knew, and even less understood. The raven at her shoulder cried out and flew off, returning to where the princess had come. It didn't take long it to land beside the pools, though most had been swallowed up with the rising tide. At the driftwood the bird morphed until it was the spitting image of the Oracle, white dress and all.

Without a sound, the imitation walked up a nearby path that led to a high cliff overlooking the sea. The imitation stood for a long time until, from far below, the frantic cry of a man called out, "Lothíriel!"

* * *

Erchirion waited for a very long time. He waited for his sister to return, perhaps not renewed, but at least somewhat refreshed. It wasn't until the tide had begun to rise that he began to wonder why she was still below. He considered whether or not he had made the right choice when the letter from Éomer had arrived. Elphir and Meira had left with their children to attend the wedding of King Elessar and Lady Arwen of Rivendell already, making Erchirion the acting lord of Dol Amroth. Lothíriel had been in her room for a few days already, but he was convinced that hearing from that man would only make things worse, especially after how he had treated her in Minas Tirith. He wanted her to heal and move past the failed relationship. He knew he was being selfish when he hid the letter in his room, but had suppressed any guilt he had by convincing himself that Lothíriel would be happier if she never heard the name Éomer again.

Finally, after his patience gave way to concern, he made his way towards the coast. His worry grew when he spotted a torn piece of white cloth in between a split of driftwood. It was the same cloth that Lothíriel had worn that very day. As he pulled it from the wood, something caught his eye. A dazzling white against the otherwise clear blue sky above. Lothíriel stood at the edge of one of the cliffs, arms hanging limply at her sides. Everything from her hair to her dress seemed stiff and resigned. The rocks below pointed up like jagged teeth, waiting to consume their victim. Fear lodged itself within his as he cried out with all his strength, "Lothíriel!"

She didn't turn to face him, but instead stepped closer to the edge. Erchirion didn't hesitate a moment longer. Running as fast as his legs would allow, he flew up the path, praying that he would make it to his sister before she stepped off the cliff. He knew the odds were impossible. There were only a few feet before she would reach the end and fall against the craggy rocks and waves below while he had at least ten times the distance to cover. A large rock cut off his line of vision for a moment and he pressed on even harder, feeling the burning sensation in his lungs and sides. He saw her once again just in time to watch her take the final step over the edge and fall, soundlessly towards her death.

"No!" His scream was lost to the wind and he raced towards the edge. As he peered over, he didn't see his sister floating, dead in the water. He saw only a single black feather.


	27. Chapter 27

Chapter 27

Minas Tirith

Midsummer's Day, 3019

Imrahil dropped the letter as if it had burned his hand. His only daughter was gone. Tears surged down his cheeks like water over rapids. The joy he had felt for his King and new Queen at their wedding had disappeared only to be replaced by stark grief. They couldn't even properly bury her as her body as it had disappeared amongst the waves and rocks. A knock sounded at the door and Amrothos entered the room. After seeing Imrahil's broken expression, he picked up the letter, scanning through it quickly. As he reached the end of the letter, he sank into a chair behind him.

"This cannot be." His voice was a whisper. "Surely Erchirion is mistaken. Her body wasn't found, so maybe she survived." His voice petered out as he realized that it was preposterous. If she had survived, she surly would have been spotted by the sailors who had scoured the coast.

"I don't want to believe it either," Imrahil's voice caught in his throat.

"I know she was heartbroken when she left the city, but I should have gone with her. I have to take care of those who are in despair. If I had been there, I would have noticed the signs." Amrothos softly placed the letter onto the desk. Imrahil took the paper and flipped it over so the words were facing the desk, as if not seeing them would erase the truth. He would never see his daughter again.

* * *

Dol Amroth

July 3019

"I swear I saw her that day!" A man's words were slurred from drinking too much. "I saw the ghost of Princess Lothíriel the day she died."

"You were drunk," another voice chimed in, "just like you are now!" Laughter could be heard throughout the tavern.

"And did anyone else see this supposed ghost?" One of the tavern girls called out while collecting empty mugs from a table.

"You know as well as I that they didn't. The beaches were empty except for me. The city was preparing the town for the Midsummer Celebration. But just cause I don't have nobody to stand with me, it don't mean I'm not telling the truth." The drunk stood up only to sway unsteadily as he began to walk out the door. Before leaving he turned back to the people. "No matter what, there was something strange about it all. She was always of a strange sort, and I would bet all the money I had in the world that magic was involved."

"Too bad you ain't got no money to bet with anymore!" Laughter filled the tavern again as the drunk staggered out.

* * *

Erchirion stared into the room that was once his sister's. Although it had been weeks since she had died, it was exactly as Lothíriel had left it, except for one small detail. On her small desk Erchirion had placed the single black feather that he had found while searching for her body. It was nothing short of a miracle that whatever force had dragged Lothíriel to never be found again within the depths had not taken the feather with it. He entered the room silently and delicately picked it up, looking at it carefully.

Directly following her death he had kept the feather with him, hoping he had been somehow deceived. He had even listened to the rumors of Lothíriel's supposed ghost. But after searching for days at a time with almost no sleep to no avail. Elphir had always been the hunter and tracker. Finally, Erchirion accepted that his sister was no longer a part of the living world. Sighing heavily, he placed the feather back in it's place on the desk before wandering to the window. Looking out from it, he could see the cliff where she had taken her life. His father had placed a marble stone at that cliff, which now acted as her grave since there was no body to bury. As a single tear fell down his cheek, he wondered if this is where she decided she would rather die than be without the man she thought she loved.

He clenched his hand into a fist as he thought of Éomer. He knew that he was partly to blame for Lothíriel's despair, but his guilt did nothing to temper his anger at how brokenhearted his sister had been even before the letter had arrived. If Éomer hadn't started this, he would never have lost his sister forever. The sound of movement behind him pulled Erchirion from his musings. He turned round to see his father standing at the threshold, much like Erchirion had before entering the room.

"I didn't know you were returning home, Father." Erchirion moved closer to the window, touching the cushioned seat beside it. "Even after all this time I still expect her to be sitting by her window, reading her books, or practicing a new song." A lump rose in his throat. "I know that after we returned home, she almost never sang, but while we lived in Rivendell, the air was always so full of music it wasn't unnatural for her to join in song." He looked away from his father's face and back out the window, taking in the ocean below. "Even though she missed Dol Amroth dearly, she was happy with the elves. We were both happy. And to think," another tear spilled over, "I will never hear her sweet songs again."

* * *

Târêt, Near-Harad

September 3019

Yusraa and Na'man watched as the Oracle opened her eyes. She had been going in and out of the dreamlike state Yusraa had put her under months ago, but had never fully awakened. Yusraa could smell the herbs that she had set aflame to do just that. The herbs had another purpose as well. They would allow Yusraa to instill some of her will into the Oracle.

A few days before their return to Târêt, Na'man had suggested that the Oracle be kept in the state she had been in when they had captured her but Yusraa had refused. So long as her mind and spirit slept, she would not be able to receive the visions for which they had gone to such lengths to obtain. As soon as the Oracle's eyes completely opened she sat straight up and backed up into the corner of the long bed as far away from Yusraa as possible. Her gaze flitted to the doorway where Na'man stood, watching in silence.

"Thank the gods you're awake, my dear!" Yusraa recalled her attention and forcing their eyes to meet. A slightly confused expression mixed with the fear and distress already on her face. "You have been ill for some time and we had thought after so many days that you would never wake." The Oracle's anxiousness seemed to dispel somewhat as she heard Yusraa's false information. "Do you remember me?" She smiled warmly, like a parent to a hurt child.

The Oracle slowly shook her head and then stopped suddenly. "You!" She gasped. "You're the one who stole me away from Dol Amroth." She looked once more to Na'man, "Both of you did."

"That was only a dream." Again Yusraa called the Oracle's eyes to meet her own. "You were asleep for many days and your fever grew almost as hot as the desert sands. I feared that if you did live through the illness, you would no longer remember your home."

The Oracle's chin lifted. "My home is in Dol Amroth. I am a princess, a descendant of the line of Númenor. I grew up there as well as in the House of Lord Elrond Half-Elven of Rivendell." Her eyes flashed with an inner pride and strength. In response Yusraa smiled patiently though she felt irritation at the Oracle's attempts to fight her will.

"It was a dream. It is not uncommon for those who have been asleep for such a long time to create new lives and live them, sometimes to the very end of their life only to wake up once again young and renewed.". The Oracle began to diminish somewhat and Yusraa let the smile fall off her lips. "It is sad that you have forgotten me, since the two of us are such close friends." She reached forward and touched the Oracle's arm gently. "Do you at least remember your name?"

"Lothíriel," the Oracle's voice was quiet as she looked down at Yusraa's hand.

"No," Yusraa shook her head. "You are Mheydar. Lothíriel isn't real. You dreamt her. But do not worry. With my help you will forget the dream soon."

* * *

Mheydar's head pounded as if it was being struck by a hammer over and over again. Trying to think, to remember her dream of Lothíriel only made the pain more pronounced. As more time passed, the less she could recall. Indeed, quickly enough Mheydar couldn't even remember why she had been so miserable in the dream. She wondered if she would ever be able to visit that dream world again. Out of everything she could remember, two things stuck out to her. First was that in the dream she had been able to see the future and secondly was the scent of a man, though whenever she tried to imagine his face or name the pounding in her head increased until she relented.

"I don't remember your name." She turned her face towards the stern looking man in the doorway, "Or his name." Her brows knit together. "But you were in my dream, near the end I think. You had a bird."

"I am Yusraa and that is Lord Na'man. He rules this city." Yusraa stood and approached a window on the other side of the chamber and opened it. Almost immediately a black raven flew into the room and landed gracefully on her waiting arm. "This is Cel, my companion." She placed him on a perch close to the open window. Taking a seat beside the raven she pointed at Cel. "He allowed both Lord Na'man and myself to follow you into your dream so that we might pull you out of it before you decided to never wake from it."

"I'm sorry." Mheydar sighed, "I just don't remember anything. I don't know anything about the city or you."

"You will learn." Na'man spoke before Yusraa had a chance. He studied Mheydar's face for a few minutes before nodding to Yusraa. "I am satisfied. See that she is settled in the tower and find her some new clothes." He left the room almost before Yusraa could finish acknowledging him. Mheydar looked down to see that she was wearing what most likely used to be a white dress. It was now a bit discolored, though she couldn't figure out why. Yusraa came towards her and helped her stand.

She guided her out of the chamber the same way that Na'man had gone though they ended up taking a turn towards some spiraling stairs. The numerous stairs would have been in pitch darkness if not for the occasional candle on the walls. After they had climbed too many stairs to recall, they arrived at a large, metal door. Yusraa pushed and it swung open without a sound.

The room itself was large and circular. The walls circled only halfway around before cutting off. Outside of the absent walls was a large balcony. To the side of the door was a large circular bed. Dropping from the ceiling were sheer curtains of red and yellow that hung over and around the bed. To the side of the bed was a screen and behind it, Mheydar could see the silver lip of a bathtub jutting out. On the other side of the room was a small pit for a fire as well as some chairs and a small table. On the table was a bowl of round fruits Mheydar did not remember ever seeing before. Walking forward she stepped out onto the balcony and a gust of wind whipped her hair around her.

From how high up she was she could see the entire city spanning for miles. Surrounding the city was a large wall and outside were fields that eventually turned into sand. The sky above was a clear blue that met the sands at the horizon. For a second she imagined that instead of the yellow sand there would be green grass going on for what must have been forever. She shook her head, trying to clear her thoughts. When she turned back she saw another woman beside Yusraa.

She was taller than Mheydar and had dark skin. She wore a brown dress that with a leather vest over it. Around her neck was the same leather as the vest though it was tight, much like the collar of an animal. Her hair was long and black and braided together. In her arms she carried an elaborate dress. She laid it out onto the mattress of Mheydar's bed and stood beside it silently, waiting for Mheydar to approach. Yusraa beckoned Mheydar over when she didn't move from the balcony and she finally returned to the room.

"We must get you out of the clothes you were ill in." Yusraa snapped her fingers and the other girl hastened over. She quickly pulled the dirtied, white dress off of Mheydar so that she stood before Yusraa naked. "No doubt you would like to bathe. I have had water readied before you awoke. We will speak more later." She turned to leave out from the door, but hesitated and turned back. She pointed to the other woman. "That is Hind, your slave. Lord Na'man picked her especially for you." Before exiting the room, Yusraa's eyes met Hind's and there was hardness in her expression.

As Mheydar heard the latch to the door close, she turned her attention to Hind. As she studied the young woman, a feeling of uneasiness fell upon her. Although she could not recall how she had felt about such things in the past, the thought of slavery, of owning another human being just like one would own a horse or dog struck her as wrong. Hind did not say a word as Mheydar stared at her. Even her face, which was smooth and tanned, remained entirely neutral.

"I am sorry," Mheydar came forward. "I did not mean to stare."

"My lady is permitted to do anything she wishes with me. There is no need to apologize." Hind's words were colored by a slight accent. Mheydar cringed inwardly.

"I don't think I, or truly anyone, does." She smiled self-deprecatingly. "Perhaps I could speak to Yusraa or Lord Na'man about it." Hind's neutral expression gave way to consternation for an instant.

"That is the way of life, as I have learned, Lady." She was very quiet, as if someone might overhear. "If I did not belong to you, I would belong to another until at last I greeted death."

"But you shouldn't belong to anyone." Mheydar sighed. "You are your own person." Hind smiled slightly in response.

"I am glad to serve someone who believes that." She glanced at the door. "Now, would you perhaps like to take your bath now, before the water grows cold?" Mheydar nodded and made her way around the dividing wall.

* * *

Na'man stared out towards the city of Târêt that spanned out before him. His family had ruled over it since its conception around the large spring in the center of the city. That spring had been greatly contested over by Prince and Chieftain alike throughout the deserts of Harad. It still would be if his great-grandfather had not thought to build the large wall surrounding not only the city itself, but the small farms that fed its inhabitants as well.

There were still the occasions where he needed to ride out and prove his strength to the nomadic tribes who felt they were justified to take Târêt from him. He also had been nursing the desire to expand his territory over the sands until at last he ruled not just one or two rooted cities – as the nomads called them – but the whole of Harad and its people. That was precisely why he needed the Oracle.

He had been somewhat surprised at how easy it had been to take the Oracle as well as convince her of who she was. He knew he shouldn't have been the least bit shocked. Yusraa had always had the talent for bending others to her will. If his father had not sent him to the desert sages to train both his body and mind at the tender age of four, he would never have trusted Yusraa. But, he had shown his ability to rule over her without a fault, and he knew she respected that. A knock sounded behind him and Yusraa entered his study.

She bowed in the traditional manner – two fingers gently touching the forehead, then three fingers touching her lips and finally bowing her head as her palm was placed over her heart.

"I see you've settled in." He smiled to himself and turned back towards the city below. "Have you seen to the Oracle?"

"Indeed, my lord. She seems to have settled well. How soon did you want to see her?" Yusraa came closer to him. He turned his head and met her purple eyes. He could see in her expression she wanted to touch him, though she knew better than to do so without his approval.

"I will see her after my supper. Just ensure that she is prepared for what I want." He reached forward and touched her cheek gently letting a small smile tug at one corner of his mouth. "Perhaps then, if all goes well, you'll deserve my attention." Dropping his hand, he let his face return to its previous expression. "Now go. I wish to be alone and think."

* * *

When Yusraa returned, Mheydar had just finished her bath and was sitting in just a robe made of soft, thin silk whilst Hind brushed her hair. Yusraa had changed out of the garments she had been wearing earlier and now wore a long, dark purple dress with golden embroidery along the sides. On her shoulder was Cel. And on both arms she wore armlets that had sheer golden fabric that matched the stitching dropping gracefully down her dress, only to stop a few feet from the ground. Her long white hair was loose except for the braids running down from the center of her head. Pinned through the braid were three white jewels that sat on her forehead. She casually strode over to the table and picked up one of the pieces of fruit from the bowl before walking across the room to Mheydar.

"You must be feeling somewhat refreshed." She smiled warmly as she handed the fruit to Mheydar. "You should eat something before you go down to speak with Lord Na'man."

"What does he want to speak to me about?" Mheydar held the small, round fruit in her hand and studied it. The outside was like thin leather that had been died a bright red.

"Your visions. What you remember about them, and even if you remember how to call upon them." Yusraa took the fruit from her hand and pulled the fruit apart, revealing a multitude of dark red seeds all bunched together.

"So that wasn't just something from the dream?" Mheydar sighed. "I suppose it would be an odd thing to just dream up." She pulled one of the seeds out and put it in her mouth. A sensation of sweetness tempered with a bitter aftertaste filled her mouth.

"You don't know how to call upon your visions then? To see what you wish to see." Yusraa's smile faded and a troubled look worked its way into her eyes. Mheydar tried to think back, but the only thing she could recall was her dream and as she tried to focus and remember her experiences from that, the pounding sensation in her head began again.

"I can only remember what I knew in my dream. When I was named," she hesitated and her brow knit together and the pounding was joined by a painful squeezing that made it nearly impossible to focus. "I can't remember what my name was in the dream. It is odd that I should forget a dream I had experienced for so long."

Yusraa narrowed her eyes as she focused sharply on Mheydar. "It would be for the best if you did not think back on that dream ever again. You are Mheydar. You will always be Mheydar." She waited for Mheydar to nod before her features relaxed and the smiled returned. "It is of no matter. I know how to teach you to call your power. We will begin to train you so that you will be able to help Lord Na'man defeat all his enemies." She turned and held up the dress that was still lying on the bed. "Now, once you've eaten, we will dress you and then you can have your talk with him."

* * *

Na'man scrutinized Mheydar as she stood in the Haradric dress he had specifically chosen for her. The dress had two layers in the traditional colors of Harad: blood red and sunset orange. The orange and red pattern on the first layer sported a geometric design of circles with diamonds connecting to each other. The top layer was a solid red that folded in the front like a robe and was pinned together by a gold and red brooch. Around her waist was a belt gelded with gold. The fabric had been cut in such a way that there was no fabric over the hips but simply fell down the middle of the front and back of the legs, leaving the first layer exposed. Hanging from the shoulders of the dress were open sleeves that nearly reached the floor. Her hair had been braided so that it circled around the back of her head though the end of it had been tied and left to hang over her shoulder. In front of the braid, a headpiece that greatly resembled a crown with rubies exactly the same color as her dress, rested atop her head.

"You look just as someone of your position should look, my dear." He touched the silky fabric of the sleeves. He knew that although Mheydar was not used to the climate of Harad – no matter what Yusraa had been able to convince her – the silk would help to keep her cool, even on the hottest of days. "You remember what you are?"

"Yusraa reminded me, my lord." She glanced over to the enchantress.

"And your duties?" He took her chin between his thumb and forefinger, turning her attention back on him.

"She told me of them too, though I regret that I do not remember how to do what you need." Na'man's hand dropped as irritation began to grow like a weed. "Though she did say she knows how to teach me." Mheydar quickly added.

"You'll remember, my lord, that my time growing under the sages taught me many things." Yusraa cut in.

"Very well," Na'man sighed. He had known that he would most likely have to be patient. A proud smile crept onto his face as a familiar thought struck him. "Train under Yusraa. We will see what you are capable of soon, I am sure. But do not take to long to learn, Oracle. All of Harad should not have to suffer another day of not having a capable ruler such as me."


	28. Chapter 28

Chapter 28

Edoras

November 3019

Éomer stared down into his cup of ale. It had been quite some time since he had received word about Lothíriel's suicide in Dol Amroth. He could still picture Prince Imrahil's face as he had given not only Éomer the news, but Éowyn as well. The heavy feeling of grief and guilt had weighed heavily on his heart from that day on because he knew, despite his attempt to resolve his relationship with Lothíriel with a letter, he'd had some hand in her death.

One thing that had surprised him is how struck by her loss he had become. He knew it was right to mourn a friend, and he had even admitted to Éowyn that he had feelings for her the day he had penned the letter, though he hadn't even recognized how deeply he felt for her until it was too late. How many sleepless nights since had he laid awake, imagining going to Dol Amroth himself and arriving just in time?

"You know," Éothain's somber voice sounded behind him. When Éomer did not turn to greet him, he made his way around the table Éomer sat at, picked up a full cup of ale and took a seat opposite of him. "If you don't allow yourself to smile, at least once in a while for your people, you'll soon be called Éomer King the Melancholy. And how will you ever find a wife to love if you are melancholy?" Éothain reached across the table and touched his shoulder. Finally Éomer looked up and saw Éothain's encouraging smile. His own expression remained hard.

"So I will be labeled melancholy. So I will not find a wife to love. These are things that I already have come to terms with." He sighed deeply and took a drink from his cup. "The woman I love is dead; laying at the bottom of the ocean, never to be found." His friend's smile fell and he held up his cup in a toast.

"May Béma watch over her sleeping self." He took a long drink before placing the cup back on the table. "But you still need a wife, Éomer. You are the last son of your line. You have a responsibility to tend to your line."

"I know." Éomer turned his face upwards and stared at one of the carved pillars. "I have thought that I should invest time to find a wife from Gondor. It will help to ease us back into a time of prosperity. You will remember that the only reason we will survive the coming winter at all is due to Prince Imrahil's generosity. But," he hesitated, "I am not ready just yet. I still need heal from the loss of Lothíriel."

"I understand." He turned the cup upwards, finishing the last of the liquid contained within. "Perhaps it would help to go and say goodbye to her."

Éomer focused on Éothain. "Whatever do you mean?"

"Go down to Dol Amroth after the Yule. Perhaps a few months before your sister's wedding and say your goodbyes over her grave. Allow yourself to move on."

* * *

Târêt

November 3019

"Remember to concentrate." Yusraa whispered while Mheydar stared into the smooth disk made of obsidian. "Don't just look at it, look through it." She did as Yusraa instructed and the obsidian seemed to take on a translucence. When she stood silent for a few moments she heard Na'man.

"Is she ready?" His deep voice filled the room as he spoke.

"Yes, my lord." Yusraa answered for Mheydar. "What do you wish to know?"

"Tell me what I must do to see Zwendi surrender." The command was simple. Mheydar's mind had been blank but as soon as Na'man had uttered the name of one of the Chieftains who led a large nomadic tribe, it seemed to fill her to the brim. The obsidian cleared completely, becoming like glass, and the room faded away.

She now stood in the midst of a huge encampment. She walked through it as people went about their daily lives until she came to a large tent made of black cloth. Entering it, she saw a tall man with skin nearly as dark as the very cloth surrounding him. He wore no shirt and on his skin were scars running down his chest and back in a pattern. On his hip was a curved dagger with a hilt that resembled a snake's head. Between the snake's fangs was a finely polished, round ruby. He stood frozen in front of a table with a large map.

A young man rushed into the tent and stared at the enraged man. "Lord Zwendi," he approached slowly, as one would to a feral animal. "I know not how, but the Lord of Târêt, Na'man, knew we would come from the west and his riders who attacked in the darkest part of the night cut loose many of our water horses and punctured our other water skins." He licked his lips. "We are too far from any water source other than Târêt, though I do not think we could take the city before we die of thirst. The walls are tall and thick and they have many arrows."

Zwendi did not move for several moments until at last he let out an enraged cry and threw the table – along with all it's contents – onto its side. "So it seems I must bow to the man who not only murdered my wife, but our child who had not yet seen even three summers as well?" Zwendi spat onto the ground. "I should curse his name until my bones have dried in the ground." His fists clenched together at his sides and when he finally turned Mheydar could see a single line of wetness on his right cheek.

"If you do not," the young man turned to face the entrance to the tent where outside people passed by, unaware of what was happening inside the tent, "your people will surely die." Zwendi watched for a full minute before sighing. His shoulders hunched forward.

"Very well. If it is for them, I think even my wife and child will forgive me in the afterlife." As soon as Zwendi finished the word 'afterlife' everything around Mheydar became blurred and progressively became darker and darker. She closed her eyes and when she reopened them, she was once again in Na'man's study with Yusraa. Mheydar's body grew heavy and her strength ebbed away. This had happened ever since she had woken up from her fever. She would have fallen if not for the chair directly behind her. Taking a seat, she breathed heavily and forced herself to remain conscious.

"Tell me what you saw." Na'man stood in front of Mheydar.

* * *

Na'man watched as Yusraa half carried the Oracle out of his study. It had been frustrating waiting for Yusraa to train her, but his patience had been rewarded, though now he felt he should make up for lost time. Every single victory had become nearly effortless as the Oracle always saw either the most effective way to obtain a surrender, or the best time to attack. And now he was about to win against one of the most powerful chiefs to ever roam the deserts of Harad.

Long had the two of them contested each other, matching each others' strength. The closest he had ever come to defeating the man was when he had killed his wife and daughter several years before. Zwendi had let his bloodlust get the best of him and it had nearly cost him his life. Unfortunately the chieftain was someone who had been able to unite a few tribes against him and they had arrived just before Na'man was able to finish the fight. After that day, Zwendi had always been an obstacle to Na'man's goal of conquering all of Harad and uniting the tribes under his rule.

Now Na'man had the upper hand. He had defeated each of the tribes who were loyal to Zwendi. He did have to admit to himself that he admired Zwendi somewhat. It took a certain strength of character to be able to unite several of the nomadic tribes without actually conquering them. Perhaps he would keep the chief alive and turn him into one of his generals. He chuckled to himself as he thought of Zwendi constantly bowing before him as King. No doubt seeing such a thing day after day would be more pleasurable that seeing his blood stain the sand only once.

He stood and hastened out the door until he found one of the slaves. "Go and tell my generals to come here." He smiled, "We must prepare for our next victory."

* * *

Mheydar had been lying in her bed for hours and still her strength had not returned to her. Each time she had forced a vision to come to her, the time she needed to recover had grown. The door to her room opened and it took all she had to lift her head and see Hind enter. She gave a gentle smile and took a seat on the edge of the bed and brushed some hair off of Lothíriel's brow.

In the past months, the two women had become friends. Hind had initially been uncomfortable with the title of friend, but after some coaxing, she agreed. It still made Mheydar uncomfortable that slavery existed, but when she had asked Yusraa once about freeing all the slaves, Yusraa had dismissed her idea as childish.

Usually during these times of recovery, Hind and Mheydar were able to be alone. This time she told Hind of the earlier conversation. Hind sighed, "Lady, to change the ways of the world you needed to be either a god or given divine right to rule and neither of us possess those qualities, least of all a slave who was born to a merchant."

"Do you remember your family?" Mheydar gazed outside, past the balcony where night was beginning to fall.

"It's been such a long time." Hind's voice was barely above a whisper. "I never knew my mother. She died shortly after I was born. Her death drove my father to gamble. He would spend most nights at the docks and whenever he came home," she hesitated, "I actually preferred the nights he didn't come home."

"I'm sorry." Mheydar lightly touched Hind's hand. "I didn't mean to upset you with bad memories."

"Compared to my life after he sold me into slavery, it was a dream." Hind chuckled as a tears she refused to shed filled her eyes.

"Your father sold you?" Mheydar's brow knitted. "What kind of parent would do such a thing?"

"The kind who is told that if he sold me, all his gambling debts would be paid." Hind stood up and walked to the fire pit, stirring the logs until the dying embers renewed into flames. When she turned back around and faced Mheydar. "You should try eating something. It'll help you regain some of your strength."

* * *

"You shouldn't push her so hard." Yusraa spoke quietly before taking a sip from the golden goblet Na'man had provided. "If you don't ease up, she will die before the year ends."

"My enemies will not wait for me to be ready." Na'man tapped a finger on his desk. "I shouldn't wait for her." Yusraa narrowed her eyes as she studied him.

"Perhaps you feel that way now, but how will you feel when you no longer have her at all?" She placed the goblet down. "All that trouble to steal her away and convince her she belongs here and you go and kill her."

"She's had visions ever since she was a child if you may recall."

"That may be," Yusraa crossed her arms over her chest, "but those came naturally and not very often. Each time we force her, the vision steals a little of her life force. If she were not descended from the old sea kings, I doubt she'd even be alive now."

Sighing, Na'man stopped his tapping and leaned back in his seat. "Very well. What would you have me do?"

"First I would allow her to recover for a bit longer than a week or two and after she has regained her strength, then I would take her outside."

"She can go outside as often as she likes." Na'man scoffed. "She has a very large balcony."

"I mean that she should go outside the palace." Cel flew in from the open window and landed on her shoulder. She reached up and caressed his black feathers as Na'man's scoff turned into a dark laugh.

"After everything I went through to bring her here, you'd have me let her go?"

"As you know, her bloodline is strong." Yusraa began to pace. "My magic is not strong enough to convince her so long as my words are the only memories she has of this place. She is beginning to remember the dream of her past. If she remembers too much, she may realize the dream is real and she will be of no more use to you." She stopped pacing. "Let her see Târêt, see its people."

"And what guarantee do I have that she won't remember anyways and run away?"

"I will send Cel with her." As she spoke, the bird hopped from her shoulder and landed on the floor. In front of them Cel's body morphed until it took the form of a man clad in black armor with a cape of feathers. His head was covered by a hood that had nothing within it but shadows. "If there is anything that you should feel concerned over, I will see it."

* * *

Edoras, Rohan

Yule 3019

Éomer spotted the riders nearly as soon as he had exited Meduseld. The dark horses were in such contrast to the white snows that covered the once green plains that they would have been seen by nearly anyone with eyes. As he watched them galloping towards the city, he noticed that on the horizon many other riderless horses followed. Seeing that, he knew that one of the many groups of breeders would be joining Edoras in greeting the new year. Eventually the riders thundered up towards Meduseld being led by none other than Talia.

"My King!" She smiled brightly as she dismounted her horse. As soon as her feet touched the ground she swept down into a bow. "I beg you allow my breeders and our horses to camp at the foot of Edoras."

"Rise Talia." Éomer spoke clearly, "breeders are always welcome here and of course you and your father may stay the Yule night within Meduseld itself if you wish."

"A very kind offer, I am sure that my father would have been greatly honored by an invitation such as this," Talia's smile faded, "alas he has passed from this world."

"I am sorry to hear of that. Please see to it that your company is settled and perhaps we could talk afterwards." She bowed, and turned around giving swift commands. Her companions nodded and mounted their horses, riding off to meet the other breeders.

Talia made her way up the steps and stopped directly in front of Éomer. "You look well. Perhaps a bit tired, but overall, you seem to be in good health."

"I doubt Éothain would let me ever hear the end of it if I got sick before having a few heirs." Éomer chuckled and led Talia inside of Meduseld. "I hope your father didn't have a difficult passing."

Talia shook her head. "He went in his sleep." She paused. "It's actually because of him that I decided to come to Edoras for Yule."

"Oh?" He raised his eyebrows in anticipation. "What do you mean?"

"The day before he died, he kept muttering the same thing over and over again. 'The King must know not to give up hope. He must follow the raven's wing to the sea of sand to find the moon's blood.'" Talia looked at him as she pulled off her leather gloves. "Do you know anything of what he meant?"

"I have no idea." Éomer sighed. "But your father always had a knack for talking in riddles that would come to fruition one way or the other."

"Well is there anything you have given up hope of? Perhaps that will give you a clue."

"Unfortunately the only thing I have given up hope of is to see the woman I love again." Thinking of Lothíriel once more caused his heart to tighten.

"Then perhaps you will see her again since my father was usually right in these things." Talia stopped walking and Éomer faced her, his mouth in its usual grim line.

"I greatly doubt it, as she has lain at the bottom of the sea for half a year now."


	29. Chapter 29

Chapter 29

Târêt

January 3020

Mheydar looked down into the city from her balcony. From the height of the tower, the people bustling down the streets and into their homes before the sun set looked similar to ants. Hind was behind her, cleaning up the table from their shared supper. It had become a regular part of their days that they ate together, though even after months of doing it, she still worried about being caught. For if it was discovered that a slave was eating at the same table as a free person, they would be harshly punished. The thought of Hind being hurt for breaking the rules was frightening, but after finding that she would often be left alone in her room for days with no one but Hind to keep her company, she felt confident that no one would discover them. Even Yusraa had stopped coming up as frequently as when Mheydar had first woken up.

The small freedom that Mheydar experienced in being allowed to leave the palace and wander the city of Târêt was hardly a freedom at all. She would be accompanied by several of the palace guards, and often by the shadow figure of Cel as well – Mheydar had seen the bird transform and it had thoroughly terrified her. This complicated any attempts to communicate with (or meet in general) the people of Târêt, and those who did speak to her spoke in a tongue that Mheydar did not understand.

"You seem troubled tonight, Lady." Hind's gentle voice carried across the room.

"You know you don't have to address me formally so long as we are alone. Please call me by my name," Mheydar said. Hind's whole body froze in hesitation for a moment before she shook her head.

"It is not for me to say, Lady. Please understand." Hind bit her lower lip as she focused on the plates before her. Mheydar sighed and stepped in from the balcony. As she took a seat at the table, she took Hind's hands in her own.

"Why don't we go and explore Târêt tonight?" Mheydar gestured towards the balcony. "There's something going on down there and we should go to see it."

"I'll go and inform the guards." Hind began to turn but Mheydar kept a firm grip on her hands.

"No. I think we should go out without the guards." Mheydar watched as Hind's mouth fell open and her eyes widened in surprise.

"We cannot!" She whispered and glanced towards the doorway, as if she was afraid someone had arrived and heard Mheydar's words. "The lord –"

"Don't worry about that." Mheydar cut her off. "We won't be gone long enough for us to be caught." She pulled Hind's wrists, turning her friend round until their eyes met once more. "Please, Hind, I don't want to go alone, but I have a mind to explore the city without the guards and Cel to block my way." Her eyes searched beseechingly into Hind's. "Please?"

Hind sighed and slumped forward, "We will do as you wish, Lady." She picked up the plates from the table. "Stay here for now. If you go into town in any of the clothes you have here, you are likely to be recognized and stopped by the guards. I will find you something you can wear." Her eyes scanned the room until they fell onto the cold fireplace. "Take some of the ash and rub it on your hands and face. It will somewhat hide your features."

Mheydar nodded to Hind. "Thank you, Hind," she kissed her friend's cheeks. "I will wait here for you." As Hind left, Mheydar did as she was instructed and moved swiftly towards the fireplace, searching for ash.

* * *

The sights and sounds were like something completely new. When Mheydar had explored the city before, while the guards had been present, all those they came near to would speak in hushed tones, if they spoke at all. Now people jostled and haggled with each other in loud, boisterous tones, talking over the other noises. Most everyone ignored her and Hind, but Mheydar caught a few people studying her. She had never seen anyone else in the city with skin as light as hers and clearly it made her a bit of an oddity among the people of Târêt, but no one ever approached so she didn't work to avoid their attention.

The sunset did something a bit magical to the colors within the town. As the sky turned a dark golden, the colorful flags, blankets and other cloths hanging from windows or balconies complimented the warm color. Men and women passed under hanging sheets that turned the streets into corridors, lit by small lamps hanging on wooden posts. The incense that smoked inside the corridors and in some corners beside different buildings was so strong that she could nearly taste it. Some of the sensations were familiar, though she couldn't place them, while others were completely new.

Down one of the streets, the sound of haunting music wafted towards them. Mheydar halted her voyage down the main street and paid close attention to the sounds. After a few moments, she hurried down a narrow alley towards the music, holding onto Hind's hand so they wouldn't get separated.

As they got closer, Mheydar could hear the lilting music better. Voices sang in a soft language that was similar to the one that she had heard from vendors that day, but the trailing way they carried the sounds took the place of the guttural words. As she peered at a great fire, women danced as if they themselves were flames allowed to exist outside of the wood, moving fluidly. Their shirts were cut away just below their breasts, exposing their flat stomachs. From their brightly colored skirts hung golden coins that chimed together like bells with each sway of their hips. Behind them, muscular men pounded rhythmically on drums that were made from the dried skins of animals. Other men, who were more slim, though they still showed signs of muscles on their tanned skin blew into horns of varying sizes as well as flutes. The song filled the air with a final flurry as it finished and the dancers fell gracefully to a bow, holding little empty bowls out to the crowd while their faces remained to the ground.

A few seconds hung in absolute silence, as if the people were waiting for more from the players, and then they broke out into an excited chatter and the sounds of coins falling on top of coins within the little bowls could be heard, pealing into the night. Most of the crowd began to disperse and once again the guttural words fueled conversations, leaving the fire and the people beside behind. A few of the people from Târêt remained for a minute or two, but when they saw that the dancers stood and the musicians were focused on the ground for any missed change, they too turned and walked away. Eventually only Mheydar and Hind stood in the shadow of a building.

She was thinking of leaving as well. She had been sad she hadn't been able to watch the whole performance, but knew there was little she could do about it now. They had already been out for longer than she had meant to as the sky above had darkened into a black sheet with the stars shining down.

She was about to leave when she saw an elderly woman with a loose gray knot of hair tied behind her head smiling in their direction. "_Kamisal mheydar om sildar. Delas dun gurto om esiko_?" Mheydar turned expectantly to Hind, hoping she understood the words. Hind's eyes showed her instant recognition.

"_Kamisal echinn defar. Esiku welee sil om cun reksa te ness ut._" Hind turned her attention back to Mheydar for a moment. She cleared her throat. "I'm afraid my friend does not speak the _Kahla juom._"

The woman smiled kindly to Mheydar and nodded. "I speak Westron well enough, though I haven't had the chance to practice it in many a year." She turned away, waving with her hand towards the fire. "_Saksar lom pe teksani._ Please take a seat where there is room and we will hear your stories. Just as I have not spoken Westron in a long time, it has been equally as long since I have met one of the moon's blood."

"Moon's blood?" Mheydar echoed before shaking her head slightly. "I don't understand. Did I meet you once before? When you were speaking to us in the other tongue, you called me by my name." Both she and Hind took a seat on a rolled up blanket with their feet towards the large fire. The woman finished her short journey towards her own place in front of the fire. One of the young women who had been dancing jumped up, reaching for her arm, helping her down.

"And what is your name, child?" Her eyes were filled with the hint at a vast knowledge that Mheydar could only guess at.

"It is Mheydar." She stared as a soft laugh escaped from the younger woman's lips though she cut off as soon as the elder looked down at her.

"That is not your name." She was so quiet that Mheydar had to strain to hear the words, but besides the fire, the street had become nearly silent. "It is what you are, but not what you are meant to be called."

"I don't think I understand. Perhaps you have me confused with someone else?" Mheydar glanced over at Hind who was busy studying the ground nearest to her feet. After a moment of silence, the woman's raspy voice spoke up once again.

"I am an _echinn defar,_ a wise woman, but that is not what I was named under the sun and stars. I am Sha'ana. Names can have great power. If one can make you forget your name, _ofkalo ke ut_." Sha'ana looked up at the darkened sky and sighed. "Is there anything you can remember at all?"

"I'm sorry, but I still think you have me confused for someone else." Mheydar smiled, but still she thought back, trying once again to remember something, anything from her past. As she did, a feeling like when she had first woken up to see Yusraa and Na'man pricked at her. Her head began to pound until finally she shook her head, clearing her mind. "There is nothing."

Sha'ana nodded, as if she had been expecting such an answer. "There is little I can do to help you. Perhaps if we had more time, but alas, we leave at first light."

"Why couldn't you just decide to stay?" Mheydar glanced to the others sitting around the fire. Most had produced bowls and were passing a single large bowl around, taking a thick liquid out with a spoon. It continued on until it reached Mheydar and Hind who both took some of the warm liquid. When she tasted it, it was spicy and she saw there were small clumps of meat among a kind of oat Mheydar had never seen before.

"Firstly, we have overstayed our welcome in this city. Our people tend to be distrusted by many who live in the rooted cities, as many nomads who do not sell any goods. Even if all we sell are stories and songs, people believe we search to take advantage and bewitch them. But that is not the only reason," Sha'ana sighed and glanced about a bit, searching for something. "The sands are moving strangely around this city and it worries me. I do not wish to continue in a place such as this until the sands have settled."

"Well," Mheydar's voice was quiet, "how can I repay you for such a fine meal? I'm afraid we didn't bring our purses with us."

Sha'ana looked at her steadily for a long moment. "We require no price from you. You were invited to share our meal. It is not our way to exact payment for a new friendship." She smiled kindly. "But perhaps you would like to share something with us in return?" Mheydar nodded expectantly. "Do you know any songs or stories? Since that is our trade, we love to hear all kinds of them. Even if it is one we have heard before, the voice usually is not the same as our own."

Mheydar smiled brightly. "I would be honored." She thought for a moment, but as she tried to remember any songs the headache descended again. The skin between her eyebrows puckered slightly as she tried to concentrate. She took a deep breath and tried to think back to songs or stories she might have heard in her past, but like everything else from that past, it was gone.

"_Ut resam tep kolb._ " The voice of a little boy chimed in. Mheydar's concentration fell as she searched for the boy. He stood about five paces away, clutching at the arm of a young woman who bore a slight resemblance to Sha'ana's face. Mheydar could see that the boy was missing his two front teeth as he smiled. "_Kokkefar jususee we kistamos omon rem nums ov misku_," he tapped his temple lightly, "_sok skirku._" He tapped his chest proudly. Although Mheydar didn't understand any of the language the boy had spoken she understood the message clearly. Closing her eyes, she didn't try to think of any songs, she just waited for the right song to come to her. Eventually everything in her mind faded away and she was picturing flat grasslands as far as the eye could see. She remembered no such place, but before she could think on it, the song came to her.

Although she saw nothing, it was as if the sound of horses galloping, their hooves beating rhythmically against the dry earth and grass. A wind blew over the grass and along with it, a melody of flutes, and a man, shrouded in shadow so that she could not see his face, began to sing, and she sang with him.

_Where now the horse and the rider? _

_Where is the horn was was blowing?_

_Where is the helm and the hauberk, and the bright hair flowing?_

_Where is the hand on the harpstring, and the red fire glowing?_

_Where is the spring and the harvest and the tall corn growing?_

_They have passed like rain on the mountain, like a wind in the meadow;_

_The days have gone down in the West behind the hills into shadow._

_Who shall gather the smoke of the dead wood burning?_

_Or behold the flowing years from the Sea returning?_

She kept her eyes closed as whispers of knowledge came and faded within her. Nothing remained for more than a few moments before fading as if she had never remembered it in the first place. It was as if the knowledge of her past hung, waiting for her to embrace it, but she couldn't. If she tried, it only slipped away even faster. At her back she could feel the presence of a large man. She wondered at why she didn't feel any fear as she felt his breath on her ear. He whispered her name. She didn't try to grasp at it as she had her other memories, but instead let the name sink into her and overwhelm every other feeling within her.

When she opened her eyes, she was more clear headed than she had been in months. Her eyes took in everything and she knew she was not native to this land as she had been told by Yusraa. She was not Mheydar.

"Though who you are is still a mystery to you, I think you know your name now." Sha'ana quietly directed her attention.

She nodded, her eyes solemn. "I am Lothíriel."

**Translations:**

**Kamisal mheydar om sildar. Delas dun gurto om esiko? (Greetings moon blood and sun blood. Please share my fire and my meal?)**

**Kamisal echinn Defar. Esiku welee sil om cun reksa te ness ut. (Greetings wise woman. Your meal looks warm and we would like to join you.)**

**Kahla juom (Sanded tongue)**

**Saksar lom pe teksani. (Make room for our guests.)**

**Ofkalo ke ut. (My pity on you.)**

**Ut resam tep kolb. (You think too much.)**

**Kokkefar jususee we kistamos omon rem nums ov misku, sok skirku. (Grandmother says a song must not come from your head, but your heart.)**


	30. Chapter 30

Chapter 30

Târêt

January 3020

Lothíriel was so joyful at remembering her name, she almost laughed aloud. For the first time in months, her mind was completely clear. Even though when she tried to think back to before the day she awoke in Harad there was nothing. Thankfully the pounding headache never accompanied the void and her mind seemed like a blank sheet, waiting to be written on. To her side, Hind was trembling so much that it distracted Lothíriel from any other thoughts. Her eyes were filled to the brim with tears and her mouth was pulled downwards in a vision of fearful sadness.

"Please my lady," she whispered when Lothíriel turned her attention onto her. The slave's voice shook nearly as much as her body. "Please do not hate me. I did know that your name was not Mheydar, but I couldn't tell you." The tears finally spilled over as she choked back quiet sobs. "I would have been punished if they ever found out you learned that they lied to you."

Lothíriel had been so wrapped up in the knowledge of her true name that she hadn't even thought of Hind or Na'man or Yusraa. Though she felt anger towards the latter two, as she watched Hind shaking and crying in such a state, she could do nothing but reach out and wrap her arms protectively around her friend. As Hind was enveloped in the warmth, her quiet sobs wracked the night air. The two sat together, uncaring of how long they remained, until finally Hind's breathing had evened. They shared no words as they parted.

"So," Sha'ana's voice was watching Lothíriel carefully, "what will you do now?"

Lothíriel considered the question. She could always go back to her high tower but what would she say when she met with Na'man and Yusraa? How could she put Hind in that kind of danger? Where else could she go? She had nothing to prepare her for the long journey across the deserts. Not only had she looked at maps before while in Na'man's study, but she could see how far the sands were spread to the point of meeting with the sky. She could always go back and steal some supplies. But then she might be caught. Who knew what would happen if she was caught trying to escape. They would most likely kill Hind. One thing she had learned from her time in Târêt was that a slave was often considered an object and not a person. Killing something was always easier than killing someone.

She sighed heavily, "I'm afraid I don't know what to do." She turned her attention to Hind. "I can't go back but I have no way to leave." Her shoulders slumped forward at her helplessness.

"If you wish to leave, come with us." The young woman who was sitting at Sha'ana's side spoke. "Don't you think that is a good idea, _Kokkefar_?" Lothíriel didn't say anything as Sha'ana stood with the help of the woman. She strode purposefully towards Lothíriel and gently pushed Lothíriel's shoulders until she was sitting up straight again.

"You have a good voice and a kind heart. If you wish to journey with us, we would be happy to be your companions."

"It can't be as easy as all that though." Lothíriel looked over at Hind.

"It is true," Hind spoke up, though her voice was a bit raspy from her recent emotional outburst, it was clear enough to be heard. "The guards know her face and would never allow her to leave the city without the presence of either Lord Na'man or Lady Yusraa. On top of that, Lady Yusraa is a bird woman. She will find you."

"I know how we could fix that!" The young woman sprang up and ran to a nearby tented carriage. Within a few seconds she popped back out excitedly and showed her grandmother what she held. She nodded and the woman came around, holding up a long black dress. Attached to the collar of the dress was a long hood with loose fabric that hung limply.

"That is a mourning dress." Hind gasped. She turned towards Lothíriel. "Women wear this dress for a few months after the death of their husband."

"But if Na'man is looking for me before we leave the city, won't I be required to show my face?" Lothíriel questioned, fingering the soft fabric. Sha'ana shook her head.

"Such a thing is forbidden. When a woman mourns her husband, none may ever see her face until the mourning period is over. Or rather, until his spirit has fully moved on from this world, lest she not be able to meet him in the afterlife. If you wear this, you will not be discovered by your face."

"And Hind would come with us?" Lothíriel held onto Hind's hand.

"Of course. Our offer is for you both to come." Sha'ana smiled.

"What of Lady Yusraa's bird?" Hind glanced to the sky.

"If the guards won't be able to recognize me by my face, I doubt that Cel will be able to determine who I am from above." She nodded to Sha'ana. "Please, allow us to journey with you away from this city." Sha'ana's smile broadened.

She looked over at the rest of the group who seemed to be coiled as they waited for the command they knew was coming. "_Walm ve gongurt. Cun pondos san pit jusilee, tikka sovom silsik_." They sprang up, doing what was required.

The young woman reached for Lothíriel's hand and began to pull her towards the tented carriage. "We'll change you in here. By the way, my name is Fa'essana. I hope we can be friends."

* * *

Na'man let out an enraged cry as the table toppled over. "What do you mean you haven't found her yet?" The guard who had reported stood stone faced though a hint of fear could be seen in his eyes. It was never good to be the one to report that something was wrong within Târêt to its' lord.

"My lord, it is simply as I said. She left among the mass of caravans and traders who were all leaving the city this morning. We have no idea who to follow to search for her." In response to the guard's words Na'man swiftly skirted around the table and grabbed the guard by the front of his tunic and brought his face close.

"Then you send men out to follow all of them." He whispered the command maliciously. The guard left the room quickly and had to contain his temptation to run out of the room. "And if you still can't find her, I'll hold you personally responsible!" Na'man shouted after the guard.

After a few moments of silence Yusraa, who had been as silent as a shadow, moved away from the wall and inched towards the doorway. Within a few feet of it, Na'man, who's back was turned to her, spoke up. "Where do you think you're going?"

"I was going to get out of your way, my lord. Perhaps later I can give you my counsel, after you have had a moment to calm yourself." She stood stock still, praying he would let her go.

He turned to face her. "Calm myself? _Calm myself_? My Oracle has gone missing, off to who knows where, and you want me to calm myself?" He began to laugh, though instead of a joyful sound it was haughty. Finally the laughter died out and was replaced with a look of such menace Yusraa had to suppress the shiver that went down her spine. "_You_ said that the spell worked. _You_ said she wouldn't remember anything. _You_ said she would never even try to run away." With each sentence he had come ever closer to her until finally he towered over her.

"I didn't lie. I'm sure she was tricked by someone to leave." She searched for an explanation. "The slave!" She almost cried out in joy at finding someone else to receive the brunt of his anger. "She must have convinced the Oracle to leave with her. She didn't know of her past, but she did know that we lied to her. Right now she has nowhere to return except here."

"Or wherever the slave takes her." His hand gripped Yusraa around the throat, bringing her face mere inches away from his own. "Use your bird to find them with all haste, lest I lose my patience with your," he paused making sure she was fully paying attention, "incompetence." Instead of simply letting go of her neck he used his powerful arm to throw her to the ground. He stepped over her fallen body and left the room.

* * *

The Great Desert, Near-Harad

February 3020

Lothíriel stared out as the sun began to pass below the horizon. "Does this desert ever end?" Even after they had left Târêt behind for a few weeks now, Sha'ana still insisted that Lothíriel wear the disguise and after finding out about Yusraa and Cel, she had given Hind a disguise, though not like Lothíriel's. She now wore the same outfit as Fa'essana and her single braid was loosed letting her long, thick, black hair cascade down her back in full waves.

"I know the journey seems unending, but I promise, soon we will reach a town." Fa'essana looped her arm around Lothíriel's shoulders. The tents had been set up before the hot air would begin to dramatically cool and a fire was being started. It was usually around this time that she was able to remove her heavy disguise and see things without the black veil over her eyes, though she still sat under the cover of anything nearby, lest Cel drift above and spot her.

The evenings had become routine for Lothíriel. Everyone did their part while setting up camp, including Lothíriel. She had never scoured pots or peeled fruit before but once she was taught, it seemed as if she could remember other tasks. The men were returning with their plunder from among the sands. Some carried small cacti while others held blooming fruits and spiked flowers. She had been amazed the first time that a cactus had been cut open to reveal not only juicy pulp put also water stored within the prickly plant. The flowers were always inspected by Sha'ana with Fa'essana watching her carefully at her side. After the two had declared the flower safe, it was thrown into a pot to make either tea or soup, depending on what their bounty had produced.

Lothíriel had learned that Sha'ana was the matriarch of their little group and was given deference in everything. Because she had lost her daughter several years ago – she never spoke of it, only that she was gone, - Fa'essana had taken on the role as heir. She studied under Sha'ana whenever the elder had a moment to teach her young charge. Whenever Fa'essana had free time from her studies, both she and Hind would work to teach her the Khala juom. They were doing just that when Hind looked at her very carefully.

"You haven't been sleeping well, have you?" Both Fa'essana and Lothíriel turned to look at Hind.

"What makes you say that?" Fa'essana studied Lothíriel.

"Her smile is curved downwards. Back in Târêt, whenever she'd had a restless night, she would do that." Hind pointed out.

"Well don't talk about me like I'm not here." She gently shoved her two friends. "And to let you know, I'm sleeping fine. I've just been having lots of dreams."

"What kind of dreams?" Fa'essana perked up. "Kokkefar says that dreams sometimes make excellent _kistasee_."

"I wish I could tell you, but they never linger long enough to memorize. I think they're my memories, but they are like ships and my waking is like the tide leaving. Unless they have something or someone to anchor on, I don't think I'll ever retain them." She sighed heavily.

"Maybe when we get to a town your memories will begin to return." Hind put a hand gently on Lothíriel. "And if not that town, we'll go to another. We'll go around the whole world if you wish it." She smiled kindly. "You freed me from my slavery, and for that, I would follow you to the end of the world and back if you wished it."

Lothíriel returned Hind's smile and hugged her gently. She was about to respond when one of the men who watched the deserts for anything that would approach their camp came into the firelight. "We jajam ekom lilipa nums." The response wasn't verbal but immediate. Lothíriel didn't understand enough of the words to put together it's meaning but the men loosening their curved swords and knives in their scabbards as well as the women moving closer to the fire. Some even picked up burning sticks, holding them defensively.

The muted sound of horses' hooves against the sand became the only thing Lothíriel could hear beside the crackling fire. Eventually, four riders arrived at the camp. The first three dismounted and stood shoulder to shoulder. The fourth remained within the shadows. Lothíriel thought she recognized the three men, but she knew they weren't from Târêt. The fourth man spoke up.

"_Kamisal kistas vemjakee reft. Cun lalom ut re zais. Ekomo reksa te dun kahleeu om mhey vol skas. Nep ut ril rem urrit zamistareeu, cun rov urrit ut ve cusras vevat._" The man never left the shadows, but his voice was piercing and calm. At his words, several of the men and women relaxed, though no one moved until Sha'ana stepped forward. She never left the light, so her face could still be seen as she spoke up.

"_Bopar urn ut or val cun weskas emast jajakipeei bast?_" She was equally calm, though her face bore a stern expression, like something you would use while reprimanding a child who wouldn't show his hands behind his back. "_Rebor rolm cun kakal we jefor san ve lisee? Pe mesos cun emast, for weskas so we pestat._" The three men tensed and the way that Sha'ana had spoken, Lothíriel knew it had been an insult. A dark hand rested on the shoulder of one of the three men. They stepped aside and someone Lothíriel immediately recognized stepped forward.

"_Kete ur Zwendi Chinnekom. Ekomo beh ve ialtras canan. Cun urn re pestatee._" He stood straight and tall. She reached for Hind's hand, pulling her attention.

"That is Zwendi. I saw him in one of the visions Na'man ordered." She whispered to Hind. Zwendi turned his eyes towards Lothíriel and studied her. His eyes had a hard, angry look to them as he spoke. The men behind had tensed once again.

"_Urn ut we jajamok te Na'man?_" He spit on the ground as if just saying the name disgusted him. "_Ber jajakip wo fo beh kajamuko._" His hand wrapped around the hilt of his sword. Before anyone could say anything, Hind jumped directly in front of Lothíriel, spreading her arms out as if they were a shield.

"_Re! Far beh rem jajamok sor jajakip. Cun lalom te iral forl._" Several of the men and women nodded to Hind's rushed words. His eyes narrowed on Hind as he studied her.

"_Rebor ril kete emast ut kistam eram?_" His hand remained at his sword hilt, though the muscles were relaxed.

"_Kete erast ke rishkeo om zeshkeso._" Hind didn't hesitate. There were a few gasps from the people around them, but Zwendi remained steadfast in his gaze. Finally his face relaxed and his voice was solemn.

"_Vik beh rem we bakat alon te erast zeshkeseu. Kete rov kakal peshkasheeu._" He removed his hand from the sword hilt. His voice became heated again, though this time the anger in it was not directed at them. "_Ut lilip besasapo for rov rem orsep ut kochisos kete lilip zesikkora forl._" He turned back to Sha'ana, but Lothíriel didn't pay attention to anything else he said. She pulled Hind and Fa'essana to her side and whispered as quietly as she could.

"Would you care to explain what happened and what is going on?" She watched Zwendi for a few seconds before returning her attention back to her friends.

"He's asking permission to sleep in our vicinity as friends." Fa'essana responded. "When he heard you speak Na'man's name, he thought your were friends with him, he most likely would have killed you. If not for Hind's quick thinking, I doubt you would have left this night unharmed."

"But what did you say to convince him?" Lothíriel questioned.

"I, umm, pledged my soul to my words." Her tongue darted out to lick her lips nervously. "It is not something lightly done, for it is believed that the soul knows the ultimate truth and if you should lie, even unwittingly, when you die, it will shrivel up and die with you, keeping you from the afterlife." She cleared her throat. "But ultimately he believed me and assured me that Na'man will not hunt us for long since he will kill him."

Lothíriel's eyes opened in panic. "He can't go to Târêt! I have to stop him!" Before Fa'essana could grip around her arm and stop her, Lothíriel had moved to the front of the line and was quickly approaching Zwendi and Sha'ana. She was only a few feet away when the ring of steel resounded in the air. Mere inches away from her throat was the point of a curved sword. At the end of that sword was one of the three men who had accompanied Zwendi.

"Please." Her words were met by silence. "I mean no harm to your chief. In fact, I mean to save his life." They each looked at her blankly, not understanding her words. Zwendi watched her, but she could tell that he also didn't understand a word of what she said. In frustration she looked to Sha'ana. The elderly woman approached her and with a single finger, she pushed the sword aside.

"What is it you wish to tell him?" She touched Lothíriel's cheek. In her head she heard a voice. She knew she had heard it before but couldn't place it. 'Time is much like this stream. It continues on its way no matter what comes along. However, while it is certain that time will go on, and the future is always approaching, the future is dictated by both the past and the present actions of us and everyone around us. If you were to place that stone anywhere in the stream, would it stop the stream from running? The stream has no way of knowing that the stone is coming, but that is something that will forever shape its future. The world is like this. It will continue going forward no matter what is put in front of it. You have the ability to see what stones are coming and are able to help those who must prepare for its arrival.'

"Tell him he must not go to Târêt to kill Na'man." Sha'ana began translating Lothíriel's words right away. "There is only his peoples' deaths and his defeat if he should go there."

Zwendi lifted his chin stubbornly. "_Rebor ril ut emast vol?_" After Sha'ana explained his words Lothíriel stood taller as she recalled the words.

'Tell him if he goes to Târêt he will have to bow to the man who not only murdered his wife, but his child who had not yet seen even three summers as well. He will have to show deference to the man whose name he should curse until his bones have dried in the ground." Lothíriel never broke eye contact as Sha'ana translated. Zwendi's brow furrowed.

"_Rebor ril kete zesikkor vol jefor?_" His words were quiet and his chin lowered slightly. Sha'ana whispered the translation.

"He hunts for me. I am quite sure that if you join with us on our journey, you will find the opportunity." Lothíriel flicked her eyes to Sha'ana who nodded her agreement. Zwendi turned to the three men and began to bark orders. They immediately went into action. One of them came to Lothíriel's side and guided her to a horse. He pointed to the saddle and held out his hands, ready to take her foot. She pointed to Hind and the others. The man nodded and Hind came forward. After a quiet conversation, Hind spoke in Westron.

"Do not worry about the others. They will join the tribe's camp as soon as they have packed up their things. We are not leaving them. Also, you will no longer wear a disguise. Chief Zwendi will want you to be found so that Na'man will try to come for you." Hind was led to another horse by a second man. As they both mounted behind the men, Lothíriel turned to see Fa'essana nodding and smiling as she helped pack up the camp.

**Translations:**

**Walm ve gongurt. Cun pondos san pit jusilee, tikka sovom silsik - Gather the camp. We leave in five hours, just before sunrise.**

**kistasee - stories**

**We jajam ekom lilipa nums. - A stranger tribe has come.**

**Kamisal kistas vemjakee reft. Cun lalom ut re zais. Ekomo reksa te dun kahleeu om mhey vol skas. Nep ut ril rem urrit zamistareeu, cun rov urrit ut ve cusras vevat. - Greetings story tellers. We wish you no harm. My tribe would like to share your sands and moon this night. If you do not show your swords, we will show you the same courtesy.**

**Bopar urn ut or val cun weskas emast jajakipeei bast? - Who are you so that we might know our new companions?**

**Rebor rolm cun kakal we jefor san ve lisee? Pe mesos cun emast, for weskas so we pestat. - How can we trust a man in the shadows? For all we know, he may be a snake.**

**Kete ur Zwendi Chinnekom. Ekomo beh ve ialtras canan. Cun urn re pestatee. - I am Zwendi Chief. My tribe is the Coyote Hide. We are no snakes.**

**Urn ut we jajamok te Na'man? - Are you a friend to Na'man?**

**Ber jajakip wo fo beh kajamuko. - Any companion of his is my enemy.**

**Re! Far beh rem jajamok sor jajakip. Cun lalom te iral forl. - No! She is not his friend or companion. We wish to escape him?**

**Rebor ril kete emast ut kistam eram? - How do I know you speak truth?**

**Kete erast ke rishkeo om zeshkeso. - I swear on my life and my soul.**

**Vik beh rem we bakat alon te erast zeshkeseu. Kete rov kakal peshkasheeu. - It is not a small thing to swear your soul. I will trust your words.**

**Ut lilip besasapo for rov rem orsep ut kochisos kete lilip zesikkora forl. - You have my promise he will not find you after I have killed him.**

**Rebor ril ut emast vol? - How do you know this?**

**Rebor ril kete zesikkor vol jefor? - How do I kill this man?**


	31. Chapter 31

Chapter 31

Dol Amroth

February 3020

Erchirion heard them before he ever saw them. His father, Elphir and their two guests. He would have gone and passed them completely, opening his book to seem miles away in his mind, but their first guest stepped in front of them with absolute grace. Erchirion closed his book with a light sigh and met the eyes of Glorfindel.

The elf who had always seemed to shine from within had dimmed slightly after the quiet conversation. He was not surprised. Ever since Lothíriel's death, any conversation about her had had that effect. "Lord Erchirion, it is good of you to join us. Other than the welcoming party – which I may remind you that you only stayed for ten minutes – I haven't seen you at all since. I think even that you have been up in your library so often that you missed the arrival of your latest friend." The word friend was jarring. Erchirion wanted to immediately give his excuses before having to meet the man, but upon hearing Glorfindel, the other three joined them in the corridor. Erchirion wanted to leave rather than look upon his other guest, but protocol and etiquette demanded that he pay his respects. Bowing low, trying to convince himself not to straighten with the sour look he seemed to sport whenever he was near, he spoke.

"King Éomer, thank you for visiting us." The words were bitter in his mouth and it took all he had to contain himself. Indeed, he believed that if his father and brother had not been there, he might have struck the man simply for existing. _He did not kill her with his own hand, but he might as well be her murderer!_ Éomer did not look the same as when Erchirion had last seen him. Before he had been proud and joyous like a lion but now he wasn't even a shadow of the same man. Although he still stood tall and alert – years of real world training he imagined – his face was drawn and a look of pronounced sorrow held in his eyes. Under his eyes were huge bags proving the lack of sleep. The sleep of a guilty man he imagined, though that one thought didn't remain because Erchirion had had difficulty sleeping since the event as well.

"It's been a while, Lord Erchirion." Éomer's voice was low but clear. "I was going to visit your sister's grave this morning before your father, brother and Glorfindel caught me in this corridor and showed me to her chamber. I would greatly enjoy having you join me when I go to pay my respects."

"I'm afraid I'm much too busy at the moment." Erchirion's words were clipped as he turned to go. A hand reached out and caught him by the arm. He turned, some of the anger he had concealed lighting on in his eyes, to see that it was his father who had stopped him.

"I think it would be for the best." Imrahil pulled Erchirion back, swiftly taking the book from his hand. His tone was one that none could argue with. "Show King Éomer the way to your sister's grave."

…

"I miss you a great deal you know." Éomer was on his knees as he touched the marble stone, tracing his fingers along the carved letters _Here lies Lothíriel, daughter of Imrahil. May she sail forever under a clear sky._ He felt tears stinging his eyes as she read it over and over. "Do you know that shortly after sending you the letter, just before I discovered your fate, I had resolved to marry you – if you would have had me of course." He sighed and didn't speak for several minutes until finally he could allow the words access without his sorrow consuming them. "Why did you leave us Lothíriel, my love? Why did you choose to leave the company of the sun and join the moon instead?" As he mentioned the moon, the words he had heard during Yule came back to him. _'He must follow the raven's wing to the sea of sand to find the moon's blood.'_ He shook his head, dispelling his thoughts and stared blankly at the horizon where the sky and sea met. "My advisors often feel I need to be reminded that I am the last male heir to the house of Eorl. Of my entire blood, I only really have Éowyn left and soon she will leave me for Faramir. I do not begrudge her happiness, I simply wish that I could be equally happy with her." He looked back down at the stone. "I wish I never had to marry. If it were not for the sake of my blood and my people, I would live on without spouse or children and join you in the afterworld with no attachments." He took his hand off of the stone and stood. "Alas, that cannot be. I will part with you by saying that I will always love you and that until I have left Dol Amroth, I will not stop thinking of you. After I have left, I doubt I will ever return to this city." A small breeze blew past him towards the south. He put the palm of his hand gently to his lips and kissed it. Before the breeze ended, he put his hand outward and opened his fingers, allowing the kiss to be taken by the wind.

…

"Are you quite satisfied to let me sister rest in peace now?" Erchirion had allowed himself to be stirred into a bit of a frenzy as he had watched Éomer from the beach below.

"I never meant to disturb her peace, only to say goodbye." Éomer looked cautiously at Erchirion. "I don't think your sister would begrudge me that."

"Perhaps not," Erchirion's voice was full of all the venom he had so meticulously hidden before, "but I certainly do."

"I don't think I understand you." Éomer's tone held a strained warning but Erchirion charged further ahead without considering.

"I doubt you would, when you only think of yourself in this. You, who are the man I consider my sister's killer." Erchirion's rage propelled him even further. "If you had not picked up Lothíriel's heart only to cast it away shortly thereafter she would still be alive today!" Éomer seemed to diminish somewhat but Erchirion was not satisfied. He balled his hand into a fist and punched Éomer with all his might. The man's head barely moved, the rest of him remained completely still. If he had not been in such a state, he would have nursed his hand which smarted from the contact but instead it only added more fuel to the fire. Erchirion reached out and grabbed Éomer's tunic. "Even if she were still alive today, I would have not let her have any contact with you. My only regret in this is that I ever considered giving her your letter which no doubt would have only broken her heart anew!"

Life flashed in Éomer's eyes and what had diminished grew twofold until he stood tall and his presence seemed to take up twice the space it already had. Reaching forward with his two large hands, he took both of Erchirion's arms just about the elbow and lifted him off the ground as if he weighed no more than a rag doll until their eyes were level.

"You never gave her my letter? It arrived before she died?" He shook the prince. "You fool!" He threw him onto the ground with a cry that was mixed between grief and rage. Erchirion scrambled to his feet, standing stubbornly in front of Éomer. "You foolish, foolish man! If you had only given it to her, I believe she would still be with us today. I had written that I wished to renew relationship with her."

"Then I," Erchirion couldn't finish the words. He had always known it in some way or another, but he had never wanted to admit that he was the reason for the death of his most beloved sister. "No!" He screamed out towards the sky. "I loved her, I still love her!" Tears fell from his eyes. "I wished only to shield her from further heartbreak."

Éomer punched Erchirion squarely in the jaw. The difference was astonishing. Erchirion went sprawling backwards and fell, sputtering, into the waves with a large splash. He stared up at Éomer, a pillar of cold fire. "I swear that if you were not the son of Imrahil, a man I have come to respect, I would run you through with my sword this very day for this." Éomer stomped off leaving Erchirion alone to his guilt and grief.

…

The scream of agony would have shocked and dismayed anyone who heard it, if anyone had been around. Éomer was on his knees as the water lapped at his legs. He had come to terms months ago that his letter had either not arrived on time or at all and Lothíriel had taken her life because of it. But to discover that it had indeed arrived and in fact never reached Lothíriel because her brother had meddled in things he didn't fully understand, it had been too much. He wanted to remain furious with Erchirion, but a part of him – however much he wished to pretend it wasn't there – understood why he had acted in that way.

He thought about his relationship with Éowyn and all the things he would have done to spare her pain. He considered how much more pain he had indeed caused her even while his motives were pure and loving. It was a true blessing that she was still alive now even after all of the events that she had gone through. He sighed sadly and rested his open hands on his lap. Looking to the sky, he imagined how his life would have played out if she still lived. The words Erchirion had spoken rang in his mind. _'I wished only to shield her from further heartbreak.'_ Those were not the malicious words of someone who had meant harm, but of a loving brother who wanted their sibling to be happy again. Yes, Erchirion had acted like a fool, but he wondered if he had been put in the same situation with Éowyn, would he have acted any differently?

After a long while, he finally stood and began walking slowly to the castle. All of his rage had dissipated and was now replaced with a bitter sorrow. The castle itself was quite a distance away and in fact, in his anger he had gone almost as far as the forest. As he walked he watched to ground, spotting seashells and seaweed among the sand. Where he walked, the sand was still wet from the earlier tide, but not much farther to his side, the dry sand shifted as several breezes came and went. It was during one of these breezes that Éomer saw it in the dry sand.

A black feather was exposed from the sands. He had of course seen feathers while he had walked up and down the beach, but all of those feathers had been white from seagulls. The ebony feather was laying flat, but with each grain of sand that shifted off of it with the breeze, it seemed to shiver in anticipation of taking flight once again.

Before it could take off, he reached down and pinched the end of it with his fingers. He didn't know why he had decided to take it, but before he could do anything with it, a wind that was stronger than any he had felt that day gushed past him towards the south and he lost his grip on the feather. After watching the feather tumble in the air as it moved towards the south, he turned away, continuing on his trek towards the castle.

…

Erchirion was sitting in Lothíriel's room, holding the raven's feather in his hand when he heard movement at the door. Normally he would have ignored it, especially after having wept as bitterly as he had, but without looking, he could feel Éomer's presence. He turned, not even bothering to explain his red eyes and tear streaked cheeks. Even if he didn't care, Erchirion knew that Éomer would understand. When he saw him though, Éomer's focus was not on Erchirion but on the feather he held.

"What kind of feather is that?" His angry tone from earlier was gone, replaced with mild curiosity, laced with something else Erchirion couldn't place.

"It's a raven's feather." He answered, holding it out for Éomer. The large man strode forwards slowly, staring at it.

"I came across another just like it on the beach." He touched it gently. "He must follow the raven's wing to the sea of sand to find the moon's blood." He murmured gently. Erchirion withdrew his the feather as his eyebrows knit together.

"What did you say?" He turned his head to the side a bit, bringing his hear closer to Éomer.

"It's something someone back from Rohan said before he died." Éomer shrugged. "It's something I've been trying to figure it out since." When Éomer focused a bit more, he noticed Erchirion's expression. "Does it mean something to you?"

"Are you sure they said sea of sand _and_ moon's blood?" Erchirion stood. Holding the feather up to Éomer. His earlier sadness was forgotten as his mind remembered all the books he had gone through while trying to figure out why the feather had been there when his sister was not. When Éomer nodded, the ghost of a smile came onto Erchirion's lips.

He rushed past Éomer, not caring that the man followed close behind. He traveled down the maze of corridors, eventually passing Elphir who began trailing after the two men until Erchirion reached the steps to his tower. Inside was the great library of Dol Amroth. It was, of course, a fraction of the size of the library of Minas Tirith, but he knew each of the books within like they were his old friends. He took the stairs two at a time, popping into rooms that to anyone viewing would seem random, always returning to the stairs with a book or two in hand. After grabbing at least ten different books, Erchirion found his table. He scooted the maps and books he'd had open already to one side of the table, laying down his current pile onto the empty space. Wasting no time, he opened the first book to the desired page. Most were in Westron while others were in Sindarin, Haradric, and other languages he'd taken years to translate before.

"What are you doing?" Erchirion looked up in surprise at Éomer. He had been so focused that he had entirely forgotten that the rohir or his brother were there.

"What you said gave me the keywords I've been searching for this whole time." He focused on the pages, skimming them until finally he found the words. He laughed triumphantly and pulled one of the maps he'd pushed over earlier. The maps lettering was not that of Westron, nor was it Sindarin but Haradric, or better said the sanded tongue.

"What is that?" Éomer asked as both he and Elphir leaned over the map, trying to understand what they were seeing. Erchirion's tone turned to one of a teacher to his student. He pointed to a specific area on the map.

"This is Gondor. I'm not very surprised that it doesn't have more than a few border towns on Gondor's side, but if you look past the border into Harad you'll see," he moved his finger to another area on the map where the curved symbols were clear, "the Sea of Sand." He pulled out several other maps and indicated large expanses with lettering. A few that were in Westron also had the words Sea of Sand but the geography was different. "Now," Erchirion continued on, "several places that have deserts, both in the past and currently, have called them a sea of sand. That phrase alone is absolutely meaningless. However, when you add the word moon's blood," He pulled the first map to the top of the pile and slapped his hand onto the marked desert, "the search is narrowed down to one place." He looked up into Éomer's eyes. "Harad."

"But what is a moon's blood?" Some of sorrow in Éomer's eyes had been replaced with curiosity.

"It's something that the Haradric call people who have pale skin. They call those with dark skin sun blood but the people from Gondor and further north are considered moon's blood. They are the only people I know of that use that term." Erchirion looked up at Éomer. "There's something else." He opened another book that bore the illustrations of several animals, both realistic and fantastic. Turning the pages until he came to the image of a raven. "In Harad there are people who have a connection to birds and the very birds they use have strange powers. Some of the powers include shape shifting. I had dismissed the notion before because I had no reason to believe anyone from Harad would come here for Lothíriel, but when you mention two things that are clearly from there, I cannot ignore it any longer."

"You're not saying," Éomer stopped his words, not daring to utter his hope.

"I am indeed saying that." He nodded, his smile growing wider. "I do not think my sister is dead. I think that she was taken from us and I was made to watch only an image of her die so she would not be followed." Just as Erchirion finished, Éomer chimed in.

"If that is true," Éomer paused, fearing the damage to his heart if the hope remained unfulfilled before clearing his throat. "Lothíriel is still alive, and we must rescue her."

"Then we should gather the horses and supplies, and find out if there is a trader willing to take us and our horses. If so we can leave on the tide tomorrow." Elphir spoke up, straightening. "I will speak to father right away."

"I hesitate to leave before doing a bit more research and gathering plenty of supplies." Erchirion sighed. Éomer's eyes heated as he gazed down at the scholarly prince.

"Do you not wish to find your sister? You would have her remain a captive longer than is necessary? Why? So you have had time to read?" Erchirion met Éomer's eyes with a cool expression as he folded his arms.

"Do you want to die of hunger or thirst in the desert? Or perhaps you would prefer to be enslaved by one of the many nomadic tribes that wander the Sea of Sand? What shall we do if you offend someone? A lot of good it will do you when you are outnumbered by people who don't care if you're the king of the Valar themselves!"

"Father will be able to advise us. Ever since the war ended, we have been one of the few Gondorian cities to resume trade with the port towns across the border." Elphir watched as both of the men in front of him relaxed and nodded.

"We will certainly ask Prince Imrahil for his advice, but I wish not to tarry." Éomer followed Elphir out of the room and began his decent from the tower.


	32. Chapter 32

Chapter 32

Dol Amroth

February 3020

Éomer watched anxiously as the sailors loaded the ship that would be departing in only a few hours. The night before he had spent tossing and turning. If he had been younger and not the king of Rohan he probably would have left that day, but he knew that Elphir had been right when he had convinced the rohir to wait for the ship. It would shorten the journey by at least half and they would begin in a town rather than at the border, heading to who knew where. It wasn't long before his solitude was intruded upon. To his left stood Erchirion. Éomer could see that, just like himself, the second son of Imrahil had not slept that night either.

"I owe you an apology." Erchirion sighed, never looking at Éomer. "Deep down, I always knew it was my own fault that my sister was hurting so much."

"I'm sure you were acting out of love." Éomer's face bore a sympathetic look. "I have made my own fair share of mistakes that has caused my own sister grief, even with the best of intentions. Béma, being so good, she has always forgiven me though."

"I think that I imagined it was love, but truly I acted in selfishness. Even from the very beginning. It is true that I loved her, and still do, but in the end, I always loved books more." His voice was raspy and Éomer thought he caught the glint of unshed tears in Erchirion's eyes. "Even from the beginning when Father told her she would go to Rivendell and I volunteered to go with her, it wasn't out of love or any brotherly devotion to be her only familial companion. I knew that Rivendell had many books I would have only dreamt of reading before. And even after we returned, I knew that she was lonely in Minas Tirith with nearly no one who understood her, and still," he sighed again, his breath shaky, "I left her alone to be with my books here." Finally he turned his eyes upward and met Éomer's. "I acted selfishly and told myself my actions were motivated by love, even when a part of me knew that what I was doing would hurt her more than giving her your letter." He turned away, casting his face downwards and Éomer could see tears fall from his cheeks onto the ground. "I don't deserve to be her brother."

Éomer stared at the man as he silently wept. Erchirion, who not even a full day before had made Éomer feel such hatred and then gratitude, now made him feel only pity. So many things echoed his own private thoughts from the past, only in place of books, he had placed his duty to Rohan above everything, even his family and love. It had left Éowyn alone to deal with the growing darkness not only in Edoras but also within herself. He reached out and gently touched Erchirion's shoulder.

"The past is the past. Help me find your sister and it will begin your journey to showing her and the world that you do care for her." Éomer looked to the horizon, "Dry your eyes, Prince of Dol Amroth. You are in the light of the sun and under its light, Béma be good, we will find what we seek."

* * *

The ship rocked as it began to pull away from the rising sun and into the Bay of Belfalas. The rocking was uncomfortable for Éomer but not so much that he would be sick. The same could not be said for Éothain. The poor man seemed to drape over the side of their ship like a decoration. There were a few other Rohirrim who had done the same but mostly they seemed like himself – a bit green in the face, but able to remain standing. Not a single Gondorian looked even the slightest bit uncomfortable. In the case of Elphir, he looked more at home standing near the helm, watching the crew go about their business, than he did back in the castle of Dol Amroth. When the prince noticed Éomer, he waved him, beckoning Éomer to join him. Éomer did, though once in a while the ship would hit a wave head on and jolt the ship, causing him to stumble.

"Still haven't found your sea legs?" Elphir smiled understandingly.

"I don't know if such a thing exists for a man of Rohan." He chuckled, though he had to hold back his nausea. It was then that he saw a flash of golden hair on the main deck. After further observation, he saw that it was Glorfindel walking among his men. He would touch some of them on the arm or hand and say something to them and they would seem to feel better. The few that were hunched over the side of the vessel were given a few sips from Glorfindel's water skin. Almost immediately after drinking the liquid, they stood as if they were on solid ground instead of the swaying ship.

"The power of the elves is nothing to be laughed at." Elphir's eyebrows were raised as he too watched the elf. "I was quite surprised when he declared that he would join us on our journey."

"I'm not." Erchirion's voice was clear and upon further inspection, Éomer could see that though his eyes were a bit puffy, he had collected himself. "Glorfindel and Lothíriel were quite close when she was in Rivendell. I would go so far as to say that she confided in him more than anyone else."

Éomer felt a newfound appreciation for the golden-haired elf. After a few moments of silence, he spoke. "Both you and Prince Imrahil mentioned that by taking a ship we would greatly shorten our journey. But how long exactly will we be on this ship?"

"That depends entirely on the wind." Elphir pointed to one of the sails which was billowing outwards. "If it keeps up as it is right now, we'll be approaching the coast of Harad within two days, but even if the wind did die on us, and the crew have to row all the way it won't be longer than four or five days if we use the tide wisely and the wind does not set against us."

"Then we won't be making for Umbar?" Erchirion questioned. "The haven is well known for being a good place to start when you've come from Gondor."

"That may be true," Elphir nodded, "but if we traveled all the way there, we would have to find our way through the dense jungles of Far Harad. Instead, we'll take the river Harnen which acts as a border between the Sutherland and Harondor until we have come to the town of Khätif. Not only is it on the river, but also on the main road through Harad."

"If we stop there, we'll be able to resupply, and by taking the road, it'll be easier on the horses." Éomer nodded. Erchirion and Elphir continued their discussion but Éomer wandered away, checking on his men. He was glad to see that each of them were feeling better, in a few hours, even he began to feel a bit more steady on his feet.

* * *

The Great Sand Sea

February 3020

Lothíriel was sitting at the fireside with a child in her lap when she heard someone approaching her. She turned to see it was Zwendi. She smiled in greeting. He looked menacing as always, though that menace was always weakened when she looked at the cluster of young children who always trailed after him, giggling and chattering among themselves as well as to Zwendi. She had not been surprised that the children of his own tribe had not been afraid of him, but when they had come to an oasis and met with another tribe, the children there too seemed to have no fear of the man. Currently, a little girl, no older than four, was hanging onto his leg and in fact sitting on his very foot so he had to pick it up a bit higher with ever other step so as not to drag the girl along the ground. The little one on her own lap scrambled off of Lothíriel in excitement when she saw some of her friends and went, babbling to them excitedly.

After learning more about Zwendi and his tribe, Lothíriel was even happier than before that she had saved them from the fate Na'man had planned. In fact, after some discussion from Fa'essana, Lothíriel learned that not only was Zwendi a fair and kind chief, but also that he had refused Sauron during the war. His tribe had been strong enough, and Zwendi had been clever enough to avoid conflicts with several nomadic tribes that had sided with Mordor, but he had also made peace with them afterwards, helping to begin trading among the nomads.

"You are," he hesitated as he struggled with the word. His eyes turned to Fa'essana, "_vejaj_?" In the weeks that they had been traveling together, Zwendi and a few others from the tribe had begun to learn Westron after discovering that Lothíriel didn't speak kahla joum.

"Well," Fa'essana answered. Her cheeks reddened under Zwendi's gaze. He did not look for long before turning back to Lothíriel.

"You are well?" His accent was very thick, and if Lothíriel had not spent as much time listening to the people speaking kahla joum, she probably wouldn't have understood his Westron.

"_Kete ur vejaj, Chinnekom_. " Lothíriel pronounced each word carefully. Zwendi's eyebrows lifted in surprise and nodded. "Where are we heading?" His eyebrows came together.

"What is heading?" Zwendi looked back to Fa'essana.

"_Ponwemaa_," She licked her lips before continuing. "Heading is another word for traveling in Westron."

"_Or kolb peshkashee lilip ve cusras cuskrasaa._ " He muttered to himself in frustration before answering slowly in Westron. "We travel to Khätif. After Na'man comes and dies, you are closer to Gondor. Closer to home."

"How do you know if he's found us yet?" Hind, who had been silent all this time asked. Zwendi didn't say a word. Instead he simply pointed upward where a single black bird was circling above the camp. It was a raven.

"I know." He said, his voice low and some of the menace that had lessened in the presence of the children returned.

* * *

Yusraa's eyes were glazed over when Na'man entered her tent. She sat with her legs crossed on a thin pillow with little else in the space. The sticks of smoldering incense, and a lit candle as well as a single blanket were the only things in her small tent. Her mouth was parted only slightly, and if he had not known better, he would have thought she wasn't breathing. They had been following the Oracle's trail for at least a week. He was glad that she had finally shed her disguise and he now was able to track who he was hunting. Each day that passed he grew more and more impatient to get her back. And with that impatience, his increased resolve to show her the consequences of running away from him. Thankfully, they were only a week or so behind since his men were able to pack up and leave quickly enough while the tribe the Oracle had been traveling with had women and children as well as the elderly.

"They know that I am watching them." Yusraa's eyes were still glazed and her tone was flat. Her mind and eyes were still in the bird. It was not wise for a bird woman to remain in the consciousness of her bird for as long as she had. Indeed, she wouldn't have remained for this long if Na'man had not been the one to tell her to do it. He knew that she would do anything for him. He could tell by the fact that her purple eyes were no longer the shade of amethysts but instead of lavender that her very spirit was being drawn into the bird, and soon all that would remain with him would be an empty shell. Na'man didn't really care if she died in the process, but until he found another bird woman to replace her, he knew he had to be careful.

Giving an almost silent sigh of irritation, he bent over and gently kissed Yusraa's lips. "Leave them for the night. You can return in the morning." He mentally reminded himself that Yusraa was a particularly talented bird woman before deepening the kiss. The glaze cleared and her body relaxed from the position she had been in for hours. She returned the kiss in kind, wrapping her dark arms around his neck and letting her fingers feel the back of his head as they tangled in his hair.

He knew that she loved him. He had been unsurprised years ago when she had confessed after a long night together. It was to be expected. Thinking back on that night made his blood heat within him. Ending the kiss, he gave her a hand and helped her stand. It had been too long since he'd had a woman in his bed anyway.

"Join me in my tent and let me show you what a good job you have done." He pulled her after him as they left her tent behind.

* * *

Khätif

March 3020

The city was a burst of color. Unlike Târêt there were no walls and circling the city were tents belonging to several different tribes. Each were grouped together, and while some had a good amount of distance between the groups most seemed to mingle freely with each other. The river was constantly busy with several large boats and small ships anchored as well as men and women who gathered water in jugs and water skins. Many of the people they passed openly stared at Lothíriel as she travelled in along the southern road, though as she came closer to the river, she saw that there were plenty of people of both light and dark skin mingled throughout the city.

Some of them recognized Zwendi and came forward to greet him. Many of the women who greeted him also batted they eyes at him and gave knowing smiles. Out of the corner of Lothíriel's eye, she could see Fa'essana gritting her teeth. Glancing towards the sky, Lothíriel saw no sign of the raven, though she had been able to spot it ever once in a while in the week that it had taken them to reach Khätif. After searching for a few hours, the tribe had found a good place to set up their camp close to the bank of the river. After helping to prepare not only the tents but also the tribe's cooking fires, Lothíriel saw some of the tribe's women walking towards the city.

"We should go and explore!" Fa'essana said excitedly. "I've been here before, several years ago."

"I don't know if that would be wise." Lothíriel looked towards the city. She did want to go and see the inner city as well as walk along the river, but knew the consequences if Na'man had somehow caught up to them already.

Hind, who must have been thinking the same thing as Lothíriel nodded her agreement. "We haven't seen Cel in a while. That may mean two different things. Yusraa has died or Na'man no longer needs her raven to find us."

"I still want to show you the city." Fa'essana huffed, crossing her arms. It was at that moment that Zwendi joined them. He looked at Fa'essana first who blushed and unfolded her arms.

"Is something wrong?" His question was directed at Fa'essana but when she remained silent, Hind answered.

"We wish to go into the city but are wary of the wrong people seeing us." At her explanation, Zwendi nodded, calling out three names. As many men came forward. Each carried a spear in their right hand, had a curved sword on their left hip and the handle of a knife stuck out of their right boots. These were the guardians of the tribe.

"_Lissas vepe sanve ve gonkeft, sok ril rem saksar vik emasta ut urn cunnan vepe. Nep vels beh kajalohn, siat vepe, sok nep ut kosol ve pestat woh Târêt, sodonop vepe ezerst corrontou. Saksar ersast for kosolee ut lepros vepe pepsor or for rov lissas._" The men nodded as Zwendi turned back to the women. "Go now with no fear."

* * *

Lothíriel didn't know how they had ended up at the docks, nor did she know why the ship that was anchored nearby with the figurehead of a swan seemed so ordinary. The craftsmanship was more amazing than anything else near it. The swan looked as if it was about to take flight, taking the ship along with it. But at the same time, it was as if she had always looked at things like it. Before she knew it, she was walking closer to the ship until the crowd of people blocked her path. After a few moments, her friend's voices called to her. It was nearly sunset and they needed to head back to the tribe. She turned around and began to walk back towards them, though she never took her eyes from the swan until she directly bumped into someone.

The man who stood before her was several heads taller than herself with long golden hair and strikingly deep, blue eyes. He stared down at her as if he were seeing a ghost. She would have felt strange if nearly everyone who had met her in the past few months had not reacted similarly. The voices of Hind and Fa'essana called out to her, recalling her sense.

"I apologize sir," she smiled sweetly before deftly stepping past the large man and moving through the thick crowd until she reached her friends who led her away from the docks and back through the alleys and backstreets towards their camp.

**Translations:**

**Kete ur vejaj, Chinnekom. - I am well, Chief.**

**Or kolb peshkashee lilip ve cusras cuskrasaa. - So many words have the same meaning.**

**Lissas vepe sanve ve gonkeft, sok ril rem saksar vik emasta ut urn cunnan vepe. Nep vels beh kajalohn, siat vepe, sok nep ut kosol ve pestat woh Târêt, sodonop vepe ezerst corrontou. Saksar ersast for kosolee ut lepros vepe pepsor or for rov lissas. - Follow them into the city, but do not make it known you are with them. If there is trouble, aid them, but if you see the snake of ****Târêt, bring them back immediately. Make sure he sees you take them away so he will follow.**


	33. Chapter 33

Chapter 33

Khätif

March 3020

Éomer couldn't move. He had seen her. He had bumped into her. What had he done? Nothing. He had done nothing. He was just getting over his shock when she had called him _sir_. _Sir_? He couldn't wrap his mind around it. All his life he had trained to been ready for anything. If an enemy had attacked, he knew he would have reacted in that exact moment. But seeing the woman he loved after the grief from her death to the desperate hope that she was alive. But she had called him sir? She was Lothíriel. She had to be. But _his_ Lothíriel would have recognized him. She would have called him Éomer. '_Sir_?'

He could do nothing but stand still and stare to where she had disappeared. Every muscle in his body was tense as his heart thudded loudly in his ears. Why hadn't he stopped her? Why hadn't he even called out to her? Why had she called him sir? His thoughts kept coming back to that question. He wanted to chase after her, to search for her. His legs wouldn't move. He couldn't move! He wanted to let out a cry of joy and agony and frustration. It remained locked in his throat. He was a living statue.

People bustled around him. Some gave him curious looks, others seemed to simply stare at his body, as if measuring him. Éomer didn't care. She had called him sir and he had done nothing. He felt wetness on his face and numbly he realized that tears had fallen onto his cheeks. That one feeling seemed to slowly breathe life into him. The life spread so slowly he thought the world might end before he was able to move again. Finally the feeling reached his feet and he burst into action. He was already at least a head taller than nearly everyone on the street, but that did him no good. She had vanished while he had been too shocked to react. Behind him, the sounds of people coming towards him was distinct. He turned around and the first face he saw was Erchirion.

"She was here!" Strength returned to him. He didn't know what had happened, but he would find her first and figure the rest out later. "I don't know where she went, but she was here." Erchirion nodded and turned to one of the Swan Knights.

"Find Elphir and tell him that Lothíriel is somewhere in the city and that Lord Éomer and I are going to search for him. After you've found him, have knights posted at each of the roads leading into the city." The Knight nodded and turned away while the Rohirrim who had joined Erchirion in their chase of their king remained. "Did you see which way she went?"

Éomer shook his head solemnly. "She disappeared into the crowd."

"Very well." Erchirion nodded. "At least she won't leave the city without at least one of the Knights seeing her."

* * *

Éomer nearly fell onto the chair. Although his mind could have carried on searching for Lothíriel for days to come, his body – and those of his men – certainly would not. It was a wonder at how much the journey by ship had worn him out when he had done next to nothing during that time. It was even more strange that the men from Dol Amroth seemed to be much more energetic, though when they saw their Rohirric friends fading, they had decided to join them back at the inn.

The search had been entirely fruitless. He doubted it had everything to do with his lack of understanding of the people's language here. Erchirion was able to ask general questions, but for the most part, his understanding of the spoken language was rudimentary at best. Surely he could read the words backwards and forwards, though that helped very little as most everyone they came across couldn't seem to read or write. Sighing, Éomer ran his fingers through his hair.

"You know what would help you, my friend," the Westron the innkeeper spoke was heavily accented, but it was nice to hear at least one person from this land speaking it. The man continued once Éomer turned his attention to the man. "A bath." He held out his hand. "I can have it drawn up for you within the hour. It will soothe your aches and pains." His empty palm came forward, "It is not very expensive. Only a few silver coins."

"I am fine." Éomer leaned his head back and let his eyelids fall. Before he could drift off where he sat, the sound of metal clinking on metal sounded.

"Have it prepared quickly. And make sure that there is plenty of soap." Erchirion's voice was clear. Éomer opened his eyes, though it took a great deal of effort.

"I think I'd rather get some sleep than waste money on a bath." Éomer watched as Erchirion scowled down at him.

"With as much dust and dirt you have collected from walking down nearly every road in the city, I wouldn't be surprised if my sister didn't recognize you if she were even to walk into this inn right now." Erchirion's reprimand hit so clearly on what had happened earlier that it felt like a punch to his gut. The emotion must have registered on his face because Erchirion's scowl lightened into a look of concern. "What is it?"

"I didn't mention it earlier, but when I saw your sister, I didn't just see her. She bumped into me and spoke to me." At Éomer's words Erchirion's gaze became hawk-like.

"Then how did she get away from you? What did she say?" Erchirion sank into the seat opposite from Éomer.

"She begged my pardon and disappeared." Éomer stared blankly in the direction of the doorway.

"But if it was my sister you saw, surely she would have remembered you." Erchirion's brow knitted together as he thought. "Perhaps you were mistaken and saw someone who simply bore a close resemblance?"

"I don't think so. I would go so far as to say that the only way I could have been more sure that she was Lothíriel is if she had come up and kissed me before running off." The hint of a smile played at the corners of Éomer's mouth as he remembered their kiss nearly a year before.

"Well," Erchirion stood, "whatever the case, I'm sure that it will be sorted out as soon as we find her." He began walking away before turning his face back around and studying Éomer. "I did mean it about that bath, by the way. After a week of traveling by sea and walking down dusty roads, it'll do you good to wash the salt and dirt from yourself."

* * *

Lothíriel sighed as she rolled from one side to the other in an effort to fall asleep, yet no matter what position she took in her bedroll, she couldn't get comfortable. Every time she closed her eyes, she could see the golden-haired man standing before her, his expression shocked and bewildered. Each time it came to her, part of her heart ached, though she couldn't begin to guess why. At last conceding to a sleepless night, she pushed the blankets off of her and after pulling a shawl around her shoulders, silently left the tent.

Guards patrolled through camp, some quietly greeting Lothíriel as they passed each other. She wandered aimlessly, keeping the shawl pulled tightly against her to ward off the cold night air. She had been a bit surprised at how cold the nights in the desert became even though the days were hotter than any place ought to have had a right to be. Eventually, Lothíriel reached the edge of camp, which stopped only a few dozen feet from the river.

The river itself flowed by in a deceptively lazy way. When she reached down and touched the water with a few outstretched fingers, she found it to be as icy as the night. Withdrawing, she found a large rock on the bank that was covered in soft moss. She sat on it for a while and watched the river absently. It was flowing in the direction of the city. The direction of the man and that familiar swan-ship.

"You could not sleep?" The heavy accent and deep voice gave away it's speaker before Lothíriel could turn to greet Zwendi. She shook her head solemnly.

"I suppose I have too many thoughts bouncing in my head for sleep." Lothíriel smiled, though it never reached her eyes.

"I do not know what you mean by bouncing, but I believe I know what you mean generally." He came to stand close to her. "Sometimes, the nights that we cannot rest are a blessing. Sometimes they are a sign." He turned his gaze on her and watched her carefully.

"I don't know which it is, but in the end, I think it'll just mean I'll be tired when tomorrow comes." Lothíriel chuckled. "Though, I've no idea what to do tomorrow."

"I've thought of that." Zwendi's solemn tone seemed to have a layer of steel in it. "You will go back into the city. It will be like earlier today."

"But why?" Lothíriel pictured going back to the docks and seeing the swan-ship again, but part of her was worried that it wouldn't be there any longer.

"Na'man knows you are with our tribe, but I doubt he would attack it so close to this city. Here, there is a rule against such things so as to keep the city's peace. I do not think even Na'man would risk the wrath of such a large city along with all the gathered tribes simply to recover you." Zwendi crossed his arms and looked up at the sky where the full moon seemed to hang. "There are, however, no rules against duels. But I cannot force him into such a duel unless I am able to corner him. For that, I need you to guide him to my trap."

"So I am to be bait?" Lothíriel smiled, though there was no hint of humor on her face.

"I do not know this word, bait, but whatever the case, I promise you will be perfectly safe." Zwendi turned away from the moon and locked his eyes with Lothíriel. I swear on my soul that you will not be hurt from this." Lothíriel swallowed at his words. She knew it was not a small thing to make such a claim.

"In a way," Lothíriel cleared her throat, "I knew it would end up being something like this when I agreed to join you until you killed Na'man ." Turning back to the river. "I may have an idea, but we'll have to wait to discuss it with Sha'ana and Fa'essana in the morning."

* * *

Although the sun had only risen an hour before, the air was already heating up dramatically. Éomer had checked at each of the southern gates, but there had been no sign of Lothíriel. To his side was Glorfindel and a few of his Rohirrim. Erchirion had decided not to search with him, but instead for the two of them to split up. Erchirion had bought a map of Khätif the day before while they had been searching for Lothíriel, and at dawn when the Rohirric King had woken, Erchirion had shown it to him, explaining his plans.

Éomer was glad that Glorfindel had decided to join his own party. While he had looked very carefully at the map, he had not had the time to memorize it. Glorfindel – whether due to ever being to the city before or being able to remember a map after just glancing at it – easily led them down streets and back alleys so they could make it from one gate to another in almost no time at all. He wondered if Erchirion had had better luck, but he doubted it. If Erchirion had found her, he would have sent a messenger to the southern side of the city.

He sighed as he took a seat on a stone bench set in the shade of a building. Glorfindel gracefully sat beside him, his eyes on the people passing to and fro. He began to wonder if he had really seen Lothíriel the day before or if it had all been a dream. Surely, if she was in the city, they would have discovered her by now. What if she had somehow left the city without being seen by the guards?

"Do not give up hope, King of Rohan." Glorfindel's bright voice seemed to wash away some of Éomer's doubts. He was about to say something else when his head whipped round. He stood in a single, fluid motion. "Come. Come and let your doubts and fears be laid to rest."

* * *

"And you're sure about this?" Sha'ana had questioned Lothíriel one last time before they had left the tents behind.

"I am." Lothíriel remembered the look of concern on Sha'ana's face turning to compliance. She had not stopped her. Now they stood around a fire, similar to the one she had seen in Târêt. The women and men who normally would have been singing, dancing and playing their instruments were silent. Only Lothíriel stood. In her hand, she held a small harp. Although she had no memory of learning to play this or any other instrument, her fingers remembered. She plucked the strings as if her hands belonged to someone else entirely. The quiet melody attracted a large crowd until finally, there was nearly no room between each spectator. She parted her lips, and sang. The song, much like the ability to play, was unexpected, but the words flowed from her heart, unhindered by her lack of memory.

_My heart lies wrapped in mystery,_

_My mind is pinned to sand._

_My eyes see scores beyond all history,_

_And hold the future's hand._

_The King who's roof is golden,_

_And the white tree's King allied._

_Their efforts they did toll in,_

_And thus the darkness died._

_The earth's joy is unabashed,_

_At the end of such great death._

_The host who sought life smashed,_

_Has breathed their last breath._

_The swan flies ever swiftly,_

_It's wings beat in the air._

_It's breast like that of a lily,_

_Is light's chosen one who must declare._

_The King who's roof is golden,_

_And the white tree's King allied._

_Their efforts they did toll in,_

_And thus the darkness died._

_Their loves remained behind them,_

_Their hearts beat in their chest._

_Until their return they would condemn,_

_All who claimed their loves failed quest._

_Their return was hailed joyfully,_

_Though their bodies were bruised and hurt._

_They were true examples of nobility,_

_Their claims to the throne they did assert._

_Forever they will stand in friendship,_

_Their lands remain in harmony._

_Never again within darkness' grip._

_Embracing each other's fraternity._

_The King who's roof is golden,_

_And the white tree's King allied._

_Their efforts they did toll in,_

_And thus the darkness died._

As she finished her song, her attention was pulled away towards the crowd of people. Among them were two golden-haired men. The first had lighter locks than his companion, and his ears were pointed which caused her to realize that he was not a man, but an elf. Beside him was the same man she had bumped into the day before. His face was not as pale as it had been then, but in his eyes there was a strange longing and pain she felt was akin to her own. She bowed her head for a moment to show her respect. The elf returned the gesture while the man continued to stare woodenly.


	34. Chapter 34

Chapter 34

Khätif

March, 3020

Éomer's heart clenched as Lothíriel turned away from him as if he were nothing more than a stranger. He began to step forward, but before he could move a muscle, Glorfindel put a hand on his arm. A flash of rage lit Éomer, but it went out as soon as he saw the elf's face. There was hurt in his own eyes, though he kept it hidden under thick layers of calm.

"This is not the time.". His voice, even in a whisper, was hard. "She does not recognize us and it does not seem as if she is in trouble. If we try to take her back before knowing everything about her captors, we will surely be outnumbered and unprepared." Glorfindel looked around the crowd. "We don't have many of your Rohirrim and none of the Swan Knights are here."

Éomer sighed, though he kept taking hidden glances at Lothíriel. "What do you suggest?" His anger had turned to frustration. He had seen her twice in as many days and yet this would be the second time he would do nothing!

"I think we should follow them and find out where she is staying. Then we can learn everything about her situation and about the people around her." Glorfindel glanced at Lothíriel and her party. Éomer followed his line of sight and saw each of them was packing up their belongings while the fire was left to burn itself out. Lothíriel stood in between two other dark skinned women and he could just barely make out their words as they spoke to each other.

"Are we really sure that it will work?" Lothíriel asked. "I only sang one song, and the crowd wasn't even that big."

"Don't worry," one of the women spoke up, "There are not many Mheydar here. After seeing one who sang among our people, surely news will spread."

"And with that new.s, we will need to be more careful about our trips into the city. You can't wander off like you did yesterday. If Na'man were to find you alone, you wouldn't stand a chance of resisting him with Yusraa there," the other chimed in.

"You're right," Lothíriel nodded. "I don't know why I was so drawn to the docks yesterday. But I promise, I won't leave on my own again."

"You should be glad we didn't tell Kokkefar or Zwendi Chinnekom," the first said. The group had finished packing and was moving away with Lothíriel and her two friends following behind. Glorfindel touched Éomer's shoulder for a moment.

"Go and find Erchirion and come back here. I will follow them," he looked towards the group with Lothíriel, "and find where they make camp."

"I should come with you." Éomer stood firmly. Glorfindel shook his head slowly.

"No, I need you to find her brother. If we had someone to send, I would say yes, but we are separated from your Rohirrim." Glorfindel turned back, scanning the streets until he saw them again.

"Then you find her brother." Éomer crossed his arms over his chest. "I will follow and meet you back here."

Again Glorfindel shook his head. "You cannot. I can keep a further distance because my eyes can see better than yours and my ears can hear better. You will be too close and will be noticed." Éomer sighed as he realized that Glorfindel's words were true. He did stick out here like a sore thumb, and Glorfindel, while also being different and drawing attention to himself because of it would be able to follow much more discreetly.

"Alright, we'll meet you back here." Glorfindel nodded as Éomer spoke before turning and heading off. They moved off in nearly opposite directions. Éomer hoped he would find Erchirion before too long.

* * *

"What do you mean you let her leave again?" Erchirion threw his hands towards the sky as if it would bring understanding. "I thought you were here to find my sister and bring her back to Gondor, but it seems I was mistaken. You're just here to look at her as she walks away!" He began muttering and pacing.

"It was Glorfindel's idea, not mine." Éomer watched Erchirion pause for a moment before he paced some more. It had taken a long time to find Erchirion and the sun had grown much closer to the horizon, pulling long shadows to mark evening. Finally Erchirion stopped pacing and nodded.

"I suppose if Glorfindel insisted. He is an elf and is wiser than both of us. In fact, I'd go so far as to say he's older than everyone we know combined." Erchirion chuckled. "Let us return to this square and hope that Glorfindel has been successful in his pursuit."

The journey back to the square was much shorter than Éomer would have expected, given that it had taken nearly the whole afternoon to find Erchirion, but still, they didn't arrive until after the sun was touching the horizon and the warm hues of sunset was beginning to color the sky.

When they arrived, Éomer noticed that the fire was still burning, though it was now nearing its end. He wondered why the fire had not been put out, especially in such a warm climate. He didn't reflect on this for very long, however. Glorfindel was leaning against a building, watching Éomer and Erchirion approaching.

"Were you successful in following Lothíriel?" Erchirion rushed forward.

"I was," Glorfindel straightened, a slight frown curving the corners of his mouth. "She is among a tribe on the outskirts of town, close to the river." He turned his gaze to Éomer, "It is a very large tribe." Éomer knew what he meant. With anything more than thirty men, the Rohirrim and Swan Knights would be outnumbered, making their chances for success less.

"What do you recommend?" Éomer looked around to make sure that no one was listening in to the conversation.

"We may be able to sneak into the camp after dark and free Lothíriel. " Glorfindel said quietly, "but we would need to be able to leave right away."

"Then we can't do it tonight." Erchirion sighed. Éomer turned to him, shock painted on his face.

"You said I wasn't here to rescue Lothíriel, and now you're saying we should wait to do just that?" Éomer's shocked look turned to a glower. Erchirion crossed his arms and looked steadily up at Éomer, meeting the glower with cool eyes.

"The ship needs at least a day to be ready to leave." Erchirion explained. "Not only does the crew need to be informed, but we have to make sure we have plenty of water and food for the journey. These things just can't happen at a moment's notice."

"What if the tribe leaves? Lothíriel will go with them and we'll have no idea where they went." Éomer ran his fingers through his hair.

"There is a place that can hide no more than two people. They can watch the tribe without being seen. If they leave, our sentries will send word." Glorfindel spoke up, pulling the attention of both Éomer and Erchirion to him. Éomer wanted very badly to act, but he had to admit that there was wisdom in Erchirion's plan to wait. And with their men watching to make sure the tribe never left – or if they did, they would know where – Éomer could afford to wait another day, even if he hated it.

"We will wait, but before that, I would like to see the camp for myself." Glorfindel nodded as he heard Éomer's request.

"Come, follow closely and quietly." Glorfindel turned and strode purposefully towards the river.

* * *

The river's current pulled at Lothíriel's feet, giving her the feeling of drifting even when she never moved at all. The sky was darkening and behind her, all of the fires in the camp made the area seem to glow as if the sun had not left that specific spot for the night. The quiet hum of multiple people talking around those fires pulled at her attention. She remained for a few more moments before stepping back onto dry land.

"You really like this river, don't you?" Hind's voice was quiet. Lothíriel jumped a little in surprise before turning round to see her friend.

"I don't know why, but the water gives me a faint sensation of home." Lothíriel sat on a rock and used the edges of her dress to dry her feet before putting them in the simple linen slippers.

"Well that's one of the first things that's actually reminded you of home since you remembered your name." Hind smiled as she put a hand on Lothíriel's shoulder. "And it's a good place to start. Maybe you lived near a river or the ocean."

"What's the point?" Lothíriel sighed, letting her chin fall onto her open palm. "How many towns and cities are on the coasts or beside rivers? And who's to say that I don't just remember visiting a river or ocean?"

"Do not forget that you are not going alone. After Zwendi has taken care of Na'man, he has given his word that he will help you find your home, and even if they no longer help us, I will always remain with you. You gave me my freedom." Hind opened her mouth and was about to continue speaking when a sharp snap caught her attention. Both Hind and Lothíriel whipped their head around and searched in the direction it had come from.

"We're too far from the camp." Lothíriel stood, pulling on Hind's hand. "Let's go back."

* * *

Éomer was just peaking around the corner of a building when he spotted Lothíriel and one of her female companions passing two dark skinned men. He forced himself to take slow, deep breaths as he watched her walking away from him for the third time. His knuckles turned white as his hand clenched around the pommel of his sword, the horse motif digging into the fleshy part of his palm.

The men were mostly naked except for for a loin cloth with the head of a coyote covering the front, but that is not what brought his attention away from Lothíriel. These men had painted over their faces with white paint to mimic skulls. In their hands were long spears with white tipped heads while attached to their hips were curved swords and two knives were strapped to their ankles. Another short sword was strapped to their backs by leather thongs. As he studied the camp, he saw that there were more than just the two of them. There were at least ten that he could see circling the side of the camp they were on, spaced out at a good distance, but not to far that help would take long to arrive if there was trouble.

"I've read about these men," Erchirion whispered as he stared in a surprised delight. "Though I must admit I never thought I would see them. Most tribes no longer follow the old ways."

"Well don't keep us in suspense!" Éomer harsh whisper seemed to jolt Erchirion out of his daydreams and back to the reality that Lothíriel was past those fearsome men.

"I'm sorry," Erchirion licked his lips. "Those men are called Zesor, or in the common tongue: Dead Man." His voice went even lower as he continued to explain. "When boys begin to enter their maturity, the tribe holds a series of tests. A test to challenge their instinct, their strength of both will and body, their intelligence, and finally, their sense of self. The three champions of these tests are given rigorous training for a year and then subjected to three new tests which define how they would react in certain situations. One where their families are in danger, another where they themselves are in danger, and finally where their tribe is in danger. Depending on how they react, they are divided into two groups. The two who were champions in the initial tests are made into high class soldiers who then go on to learn how to command teams of lesser soldiers as well as occasionally advise their chief.

"The best of the three," he continued, "is declared a man and there is a great celebration for eight days and seven nights. Each of these nights, this 'man' is able to choose any woman within the camp who is apart of their tribe and spend the night with her. This is in the hopes that one of the women will bear his son. After these celebrations are concluded, the man is taken to a carving block where he must castrate himself." Éomer winced somewhat at the mental image. "After which, it is burned in front of him and the chief holds a funeral for the man. Just as the funeral finishes, the chief takes the ash and adds it to a white paint and draws the skull on the man's face, declaring that he is a Zesor."

"And what do these Zesor do?" Éomer asked.

"Because they are the best fighters in their entire tribe, they are given the job of protecting the tribe. They will never leave their posts to pursue an enemy – that is the job of the soldiers – but if they are attacked, they will fight without fear. To their tribe, they are already dead. They no longer have families or lives beyond their duty." Erchirion looked back down at the Zesor.

"So they give up their manhood to become glorified sentries?" Éomer could hardly believe how barbaric it all sounded. "And Lothíriel is among people who would do that to their own sons?" It took all his strength of will not to jump up and run towards them, hoping to find Lothíriel and take her away that moment.

"It is a great honor to them. They believe that when they truly die, they will be treated as heroes in the afterlife and live with their names recorded for all great warriors and heroes from every corner of the world. They will be eternal and live with everything they ever wanted."

Éomer sighed and shook his head slightly. "I just hope we're able to get to Lothíriel quickly and get out of that camp just as quickly. "Here's what I think we should do tomorrow."

* * *

Béma must have smiled down on their plan because the next night was so heavily overcast that the moon was impossible to see, making the night that much darker. The only man who had joined Éomer was Éothain, while Glorfindel and Erchirion, along with the other men all waited farther up the river with the ship. Erchirion had protested heavily, but after Éomer had explained that if they were to be successful, they would have to be in and out without being noticed. The only reason that he had allowed Éothain to come along was because not only did he give Éomer no choice, but he also knew his commander and King well enough to silently follow his orders.

After getting past the Zesor – though Éomer wondered how they had managed it – they snuck through the camp as silently as cats stalking a mouse. Making sure to stay out of any firelight, they peaked into tent after tent until finally he spotted her.

Lothíriel was not in the tent alone, though she was the only one awake. Around her were the sleeping bodies of three women. The first two he had seen her speaking to the day before, while the third was elderly. Lothíriel was combing her hair through her fingers and staring into nothingness. Both Éomer and Éothain entered the tent and though they were being silent by Éomer's reckoning, Lothíriel turned to face them. Her eyes widened and she stood.

"Who are you and what do you think you're –" Her voice was loud and both men rushed forwards. Her words became muffled against Éomer's palm. The women began to stir in the from their sleep. She struggled against Éomer's firm grasp.

"Please, Lothíriel," he whispered in her ear, "I promise everything will be alright." She stopped fighting him as soon as he spoke her name and he began to drag her out of the tent. They were almost out when one of the women did awaken. Before anyone could do anything, she let out a shriek.

"Siat! " Her shrill voice seemed even louder in the quiet of the night.

**Translations:**

**Siat - Help**


	35. Chapter 35

Chapter 35

Khätif

March 3020

Fa'essana's cry pulled Lothíriel back from the shock of hearing her name from this stranger. She dug in her heels and tried to pull her arm from his gentle, but firm grip. "Let me go." Her command halted the two men for a moment and the man's hand loosened enough that she could free herself. They had only just exited the tent that she had been sharing with Sha'ana, Hind, and Fa'essana but already she could hear feet pounding on the ground, hastily surrounding them. Zwendi had been waiting for something like this to happen. The only thing that was different was the men who had come to collect her. They had been expecting other haradrim, and perhaps Na'man himself, but not for two men who looked to belong anywhere but the deserts of Harad.

The men must have heard the approaching warriors because the air rang with the metallic sound of swords exiting their scabbards. They both turned their backs to each other with Lothíriel sandwiched in between the two of them just as the first of the warriors arrived. Several people of the tribe poked out their heads from their tents, curious at the commotion, only to be ordered back in. The intruders were surrounded, tips of many spears leveled at them. Silence hung in the air for minutes until finally, the warriors shuffled on one side of the circle, making way for their chief.

If he was surprised that the intruders were northern, he did not show it. His eyes surveyed the scene expertly before meeting the eyes of the larger northerner. The silence continued but the tension grew heavier. After moments that felt like hours, Zwendi crossed his arms and spoke.

"I would have never imagined Na'man sending horselord to capture an Oracle." He glanced at Lothíriel before returning his gaze to the first man. "Considering how much he loathes the golden haired mheydor." A smile curved on one side of his mouth. "But perhaps this is all a misunderstanding. Who are you, and what do you want with Lady Lothíriel?"

The larger man stood still for a long time before answering, "I am Éomer son of Eomund," his voice was cold and hard like steel, "and I have come to take Lady Lothíriel back to her home and her family."

"My home?" Lothíriel couldn't prevent a gasp of surprise. "You know where that is?" Her question seemed to shock some of the tension out of Éomer as he turned his face slightly to look at her for half a moment, confusion written clearly on his face.

"And where is her home and family?" Zwendi asked, bulling back Éomer's full attention.

"Shouldn't the man who took her from them know where that is?" Somehow the cold tone grew even more icy.

"I believe he should, but because I was not that man, I do not." This seemed to surprise Éomer only slightly, though he remained on guard.

"If it is true that you are not responsible for taking her away, then why would she here and not in the custody of those who did?" Éomer lowered the point of his sword somewhat.

"She ran from her captor and our tribe just happened upon her and her company. Indeed, we were planning on aiding her in finding her home very soon." Zwendi said.

"Then you should have no issues with us leaving with her this very night." Éomer's words were laced with a command that very few would dare to question. Zwendi, however, was one of those men.

"Not just yet." Zwendi clasped his hands behind his back and began to pace in front of Éomer. "You see, Lady Lothíriel has promised to aid me in the demise of Na'man," he stopped pacing, "the very man who, as you said, stole her away."

"I did give my word." Lothíriel spoke up. "In exchange for drawing out Na'man, I was given safety, food and shelter, as well as the promise of aid to find my home." She stood a little taller as she stared up at Éomer. "Lord Éomer, if it is true you know my family, perhaps you can send word to them of where I am, but I will not leave here until I have fulfilled my promise."

* * *

The Northerners were escorted to the edge of the camp watched by the chief, Lothíriel and many warriors. It had been agreed to meet the next day and Éomer would bring Erchirion with him. The name held no meaning to Lothíriel, but there was something Éomer's steadfast gaze that made her feel at ease. He nodded once to her before turning and walking down the river and into the darkness. She felt herself shiver although the night air was still warm from the day.

"Are you well?" Zwendi asked, touching her arm gently. "You were not hurt?"

"I am not hurt, but it is strange, I still remember nothing, though I felt so peculiar when he spoke my name. Although I have no memories of him, the way he said it felt very familiar."

"I think he spoke the truth. Although I have never faced a horselord on the field of battle, I have heard tales of their ferocity in battle and their penchant for honesty. Lord Éomer seemed to me to have the pride and strength of a lion. Along with that pride, I sensed a great deal of honor." Zwendi was still staring in the direction they had gone.

"Do you really think that he means to return me to my family?" Lothíriel wondered.

"I do." He finally looked at her. "Let us return to your tent. Fa'essana and Hind are most likely waiting for you."

* * *

"I lost her again, Éothain." Éomer ran his fingers through his hair as they walked back to the ship where Erchirion and everyone else awaited. "Except this time, I let her go without so much as a fight."

"My king," Éothain's voice hinted at his exhaustion, "if you had fought for her, I very much doubt you or I would have made it out of that camp alive. At least we made it out and can inform the prince of tonight's events." Just as Éothain finished speaking, the ship came into view and atop the deck was Erchirion, pacing like a caged animal. He didn't notice Éomer or Éothain's approach until they were nearly on the gangway.

"What happened? Were you not able to get into the camp?" He spoke quickly after checking for the absent Lothíriel.

"We were able to get into the camp." Éothain began.

"But we couldn't get out with Lothíriel." He hated thinking of how he had walked away, but Erchirion had to know. "She gave her word to the chief of the tribe, Zwendi, that she would remain with him until someone named Na'man came for her. She refused to leave with us until her promise had been kept."

"Who is this Na'man person?" Erchirion asked.

"The man who took her from Dol Amroth. This Zwendi claims that he aided her in crossing the desert after she ran away from Na'man." Éomer explained. "However, there is something odd. I have seen her a total of three times if tonight is included, but each time she didn't recognize me. And when we were in the camp, I mentioned your name but she didn't know you." Erchirion stared at Éomer.

"I've heard of illnesses of that nature, though it would be in Amrothos' field and not my own." Erchirion sighed before he began to pace again. "So what are we to do now?"

"Tomorrow, after dawn, we will go back to the camp and request to formally speak with Chief Zwendi and Lothíriel. Perhaps we can find a way to aid them so we can return Lothíriel all the sooner."

* * *

Lothíriel could see the sun peaking in through a small hole in the tent. She sat up, sighing quietly. The three women who shared her tent were still fast asleep, though it had taken some effort to calm them the night before. Lothíriel hadn't slept a wink. She kept reimagining what had happened until dawn eventually arrived. Outside the tent Lothíriel could hear that the day had already begun for most of the tribe. Deciding that sitting in her tent, simply thinking and imagining would do her no good, she stood and silently went outside.

The air was still slightly cool from the night before but she knew from her many nights traveling across the desert that it wouldn't be that way for very long. She meandered through the camp, enjoying the quiet busyness all around her. It wasn't long before she was at the edge of the camp. Just beyond it lay the river, gently lapping at the muddy shore. A few women and children were already at its bank. Some had already waded into the water and were busy washing clothes or collecting water further upstream.

Casually, she slipped off her sandals and let her bare feet submerge into the chilly water. Already the day was growing warm as the sun began to leave the horizon behind for open skies. She stood silently for minutes before she heard voices approaching her. She would have ignored them if there had not been that voice. She recognized it immediately. She turned around just as he and several other men came from the other side of a tent. Zwendi was with them and besides Éomer and the other man who had been with him the night before there were an additional five men. One of them was golden haired though his face was much more fair and young, though his eyes bespoke a wisdom that only someone who had lived a long life could have. Another was dark haired and tall, though not quite as much as Éomer. The rest of the men wore shining silver plate armor and helms with the symbol of a swan emblazoned in them. When the dark haired man spotted her, he cried out and began to run headlong towards her. Only a few seconds passed before he was splashing into the river. He grabbed her by the shoulders and stared at her.

"Lothíriel? Is it truly you?" She could see he was on the verge of tears though he managed to hold them back. "A part of me knew you were not dead. When Éomer told me he had found you and let you get away from him so many times I thought I would go mad!" he chattered on excitedly. "Oh, Lothíriel, I am so sorry." He hugged her tightly and Lothíriel returned the hug, though she felt a bit bewildered by this man's greeting. "I can't help but feel that this is my fault because I didn't show you Éomer's letter." He let her go. "I hope you can forgive your foolish, selfish brother."

"My brother?" Lothíriel stared at the man. His excited expression grew slightly more serious.

"Of course," he sighed, "I had forgotten, you don't remember anything, do you?" She shook her head and he sighed a second time and looked at her carefully. "My name is Erchirion. I am your second eldest brother. You have three brothers in total. Elphir is the eldest and Amrothos is younger than me though he is older than you. Our mother died many years ago and our father is Prince Imrahil of Dol Amroth." He clasped his hands behind his back and began to pace as his tone became more instructive. "Our lineage goes back many years, as far back as the Númenóreans. As such, the members of our families have been graced with some," he paused for half a step, "gifts. We –" he would have continued even more, but Lothíriel cut him off excitedly."

"Is that why I can see the future?" Lothíriel noticed that as soon as she said the words Éomer, Erchirion and the men who had come with them all stared at her as if she had just declared she was able to breath fire. Erchirion recovered faster than any of the others.

"Yes, though in the past, you didn't want anyone knowing of that ability." Erchirion smiled, "Though I suppose one of the benefits of losing your memory would be that you would forget any of your past discretion that might accompany that ability. Perhaps we should find somewhere to sit and I can tell you of all that happened since you developed the gift of foresight."

"Of course," Lothíriel indicated to a log and stump beside the river, shaded by a large fig tree behind it, "Let us retreat to the shade and you will tell your tale, my l-" she hesitated, licking her lips, "brother."

* * *

"That was how Éomer helped me figure out that you were still alive." Hours had passed as Erchirion had explained everything to Lothíriel. Éomer had listened carefully. He had often wondered about that night several years before when she had fainted without any indication of something being wrong. Now he knew, she had been a seer. He wondered why she had hidden her gift, though he supposed after her near capture as a child, she would have been prone to keeping it to herself.

Yet, now, as she spoke and behaved with her brother, and even with him, she seemed different. Though he could tell that she was still the same in her very core, she seemed less reserved. She spoke to everyone, stranger and friend alike, with ease and grace, never looking as uncomfortable as she had seemed in Minas Tirith, and while he was sad that she did not remember him at all, he couldn't help but be happy to see her so well. She chose to look at him in that moment, and their eyes locked. She smiled happily at him, but there was a question in her eyes. _What are we to each other?_

* * *

The sun was peaking over the desert sands and Na'man could see the images of the city far ahead. "You're sure she's in Khätif?" He stared towards the horizon from atop his horse. "I don't want to lose her for a day longer than is necessary."

"I am sure, my lord. Khätif is less than a full day's ride from here. If all goes as you planned, the Oracle will be yours once again before the sun sets."

"Good." Na'man smiled wickedly. "And when we return, I believe I will have to teach that girl a few lessons."


	36. Chapter 36

Chapter 36

Khätif

March 3020

Lothíriel wondered who she could have been to Éomer before she had been taken and lost her memory. It was clear that she had had feelings for him based on what Erchirion had told her, but what had he felt for her? What did he feel for her now that she didn't remember her past? As she looked into his deep blue eyes, she could tell there was grief and pain mingled with the relief he had expressed from finding her. After several hours of sitting and listening to Erchirion's rendition of her life, she had to call for a reprieve. She stood and walked around, stretching her stiff muscles.

"It's a lot to take in, I'm sure." Éomer's voice was quiet and seemed to still the air around Lothíriel. She turned her head slightly to face him and nodded.

"It is, but at the same time, I'm glad to have found out that I do have a home and family to return to. The thought of wandering the world trying to find the people who loved me, if they even existed at all, was not an enticing idea for me."

"I'm sure that no matter where you would have gone, you would have found people who loved you." Éomer stared into her eyes. She felt helpless in his gaze, but it was not disconcerting, in fact it felt almost right. He opened his mouth to say something else, but before he had the chance, Erchirion and Zwendi approached them.

"Before the day is over, we should go into town." Zwendi crossed his arms over his chest. "The snake could arrive any day now and I want to make sure he knows where to find you." He looked at Éomer. "Prince Erchirion has agreed that you will follow us at a distance, but you must make sure you do not seem to be part of our company. I fear that if you are spotted with us, the snake will not take the bait."

"I don't like leaving her unprotected." Éomer let his hand rest on the pommel of his sword.

"I will be protected. I just need to appear as though I'm not." Lothíriel placed a hand on his arm gently, smiling. She could feel the heat of his skin against her palm and some of the tension left him as he looked at her again. "I did give my word, and I knew the risks when I gave it."

"But you didn't know everything you do now." Éomer placed his other hand over hers, and though she could tell that it was strong enough to crush nearly anything in its grip, he held her hand as though it was a fragile flower. As she felt the calluses, her heart skipped a beat and she withdrew her hand slowly. "Everything will be fine. Not only do I have Zwendi and his warriors, but I feel in my very core that nothing too terrible will happen so long as you are near."

* * *

The streets were busy, though that was to be expected. It was barely past midday and only after the sun had gone down would the streets grow quiet – aside from the odd thief and boys or girls in love. They had only just arrived in the city an hour before but Na'man had wasted no time sending men in each direction to spot the Oracle and report back to their lord. There was a reward for whoever found her first; Na'man had made that abundantly clear. The men had needed no other command. Na'man stood, scanning the crowd himself with Yusraa at his side. Yusraa wore a scarf over her head, while Na'man had his face under the shadow of a hood. If the Oracle was truly in the city, it wouldn't be long before they knew exactly where she was.

They remained where they were for several minutes before one of the men rushed toward Na'man. "My lord," he whispered his deference, "I have found her. She is in the center of the town where the market is busiest." Na'man nodded to the man though he made no move to leave. He turned his face towards Yusraa.

"Send your bird to follow her." Na'man leaned against a wall in the shadow of a building. "And be ready to leave as soon as the others return."

Yusraa didn't verbally acknowledge his command but instead took a seat close to him. She closed her eyes and slowed her breathing. Each breath inward seemed to fill her, making her body lighter and lighter. The weight of the earth fell away until she was suspended in nothing. Above her were streams of light, similar to how the rays of the sun looked under the water. Below her was nothing but noise. In the past, when she had first learned how to become one with Cel, she would remain for hours in this peaceful nothingness. She would stare up at the lights and let the noise become nothing more than a hum. Now, after years of experience, she hardly wasted a moment in following Na'man's command and joined her mind with her raven.

The instant brightness of the day blinded her momentarily. She felt her wings outstretch from her body, flapping at the discomfort as her eyes adjusted. She berated herself for not making sure Cel had been in a shadow before joining with him, but didn't dwell on it for long. There was nothing to change it now. Once she was comfortable, she flexed the feathers at her tail, opened her wings and burst from the edge of the roof. She flapped a few times, circling higher and higher until she could see the market. The day's hot air bubbled beneath her and she no longer needed to flap to remain suspended in the air and instead stretched herself as wide as possible, riding the wind silently.

It was always exhilarating to feel the wind rush past the black feathers, to feel nothing beneath her feet. There was a temptation, as there had been since she first took flight, to remain one with Cel, but she had heard of other bird people falling to that temptation and losing themselves forever within their birds. She would not lose herself. She knew she had to return to Na'man. Pushing the temptation aside, she reached the market place and within seconds found her prey.

She walked slowly from stall to stall, stopping with the slave girl. Mentally, Yusraa shivered. Na'man was not a man to be crossed, even on his best days. But for this girl to have left with the Oracle, nothing in the world would persuade her to take the place of that poor, damned fool. The two of them spoke and laughed with the merchants and each other. Though it took some time to notice, Yusraa could see that the Oracle was being followed. She couldn't see the faces of the men following her, but they were dark skinned and one of the men had a tattoo of a coyote's face on the bare skin of his back and shoulder. She couldn't help but open her mouth and gasp in surprise, though through the mouth of Cel it was a croak, rising in pitch before being cut off suddenly. Na'man wouldn't be happy to know that Zwendi was with the Oracle.

She was about to return – at least partially – to her body to tell Na'man what she saw, but something else caught her eye. Further back, mixed within the crowd was a group of men. Though they tried not to stand out, they did, though the only reason for it was that the color of their skin and hair was so vastly different from those around them. One man in particular stood taller than the rest with long golden hair. From her months of watching the Oracle when she was in Gondor, she knew exactly who this fair-skinned man was. The Oracle's Rohirric King had come for his lady.

This was a complication. Somehow, the Gondorians and Rohirrim must have figured out the deception she had staged with Cel all those months ago. She flew closer to the Rohir. He followed closely to Zwendi and his warriors with him, but not close enough for Yusraa to be able to decide if he was just stalking them or was allied with them. After watching for minutes she decided to fly to a higher vantage point. No matter whether the Rohirric King was with or against Zwendi, Na'man would have to be informed. She perched in the branch of a tall tree and stared at the Oracle continuing to slowly flit from one stall to another.

She felt part of her consciousness recede from Cel, though she was still connected. The feeling of stretching herself between the raven and her physical body was nauseating. Seeing the world through one eye on the ground and another on a branch made her dizzy, though she pushed the feelings to the side, focusing mainly on her news. Several more men had returned and only two were left to return. Though she made no effort to stand, she cleared her throat, bringing Na'man's attention to her.

"What is it?" The noise of the other men quieted as Na'man spoke.

"The Oracle is with the slave, Hind." From the bird's eye she focused again on the two groups of men following her. "She is not alone. Zwendi and some of his warriors follow a way behind."

"I knew that she was traveling with their camp, but to think that he would follow her around the town himself." Na'man spat on the ground. "He must think himself very clever."

"That is not all." Yusraa continued quietly. "There are northerners following behind Zwendi."

Na'man's eyes narrowed. "What kind of northerners?"

"The barbarians from Rohan." Yusraa felt her head pounding. She needed to either recede or return to her raven soon or she would end up losing the little she had eaten for breakfast that morning. "One of them is their King. The man who the Oracle gave her heart to before I locked away her past."

Na'man stood silent for a long time and Yusraa began to wonder if Na'man had heard her, but before she could repeat herself, Na'man smiled devilishly.

"It seems the gods are on my side, though I always knew I had their favor." His smile widened. "I have a plan."

* * *

The trip into the markets had been uneventful. Éomer felt both relieved and a bit dejected. Part of him wanted this Na'man person to show up so things could be ended quickly and he could take Lothíriel back to her home. There he could court her properly and perhaps aid her in remembering who she was and if not, simply win her heart anew. He could tell that though she claimed to not remember him in the least, she felt something for him still, and that gave him hope. It also made him very impatient.

Their group, though still separate, had begun its journey back towards the encampment. After hours with no indication of Na'man arriving, they were no doubt tired and ready to relax around a fire. Éomer wouldn't have said no to the opportunity of sitting near Lothíriel, seeing her face in the glow of firelight as she spoke and laughed with him and the others around her. He was thinking of that when he heard her gasp and the other girl let out a clipped cry. Though there were still several people about, the road had cleared considerably and in the center was a tall man, dressed completely in black. He stood straight, his head was covered by a large hood, hiding his face. As Éomer moved through the crowd easily until he was only a few feet from Zwendi and Lothíriel. As he got closer, the image of the man seemed to become frayed at the edges, as if he was looking at someone through thick glass.

Zwendi and two of his warriors stood in front of Lothíriel, spears pointed forward. As another man stepped forward. This man also wore a hood, though he wasted no time in removing it as he moved past the shadowy man. In the same moment that he removed the hood, the shadowy figure diminished until it was in the shape of a large raven. It cried out and flapped its wings, rising until it could sit on the shoulder of a young woman with long white white hair. Behind her were a few men who carried curved swords and daggers.

"_Zwendi Chinnekom, vik lilipa soa kasik posket cun jeklap yesk yol._" The man smiled warmly, but it didn't reach his eyes. In them was a deadly malice Éomer had only seen a few times in his life.

"_Vol beh eram, Na'man. Kete lilip kishefa woh sekpomaa ut pe kolb rishlowee._" Zwendi shifted, his voice cold and hard. As soon as Éomer heard the name, he wasted no time before closing the little distance between himself and Lothíriel. He would be damned if he let anyone near her. He wasted no time before pulling his sword from its hilt, the ring of the steel announcing its owner's intent.

"_Vik beh jajak te lilip soa hewena. Vemjak kete, rebor rila ut eks ve yekkor kete pondosa pe ut mesons volal rishlowee pepsar?_" Na'man's malice became more clear as his grin grew into a smirk. A muscle on Zwendi's back twitched and he spoke quietly, though the rage in his voice was unmistakable.

"_Emast val ishkosheeu lilip yaposta te zesu. Pezzik zeshkesu rov rem emast bessas low ut urn zes._" Zwendi stuck his spear into the dirt near him and drew his sword in one hand and a dagger with the other. He stood, coiled, ready to leap forward at a moment's notice.

"_Vop ut ovet rem so hekomaa lowim vemjakaa. Nep ut lalom sasseb, yel om lepros vik!_" Éomer watched as Zwendi pitched forward, moving as though there was nothing under his feet but air. The two blades met and Na'man swiftly moved around until his back was to Éomer. Almost immediately, one of Na'man's men stepped forward and without warning pushed a spear through the leg of the warrior. Zwendi's leg buckled beneath him as he let out a short, sharp cry of pain. One of Zwendi's warriors cried out as he threw a thin dagger with extraordinary precision. Éomer cried out, enraged even before the knife landed in the man's chest.

"You have no honor!" The snarl was powerful enough to force the crowd back a few steps. Angry at the treachery, each of the Rohirrim drew their swords and stood ready for battle.

Na'man didn't even look at them. Instead he stood over Zwendi, with his arms crossed over his chest. "_Kete messason emasta ut rova te kete posras._" Zwendi looked up and spit at Na'man, though he moved aside before it could touch even his boots. Still not looking at Éomer, he spoke in clear Westron, "Why would I waste honor on you? I have simply come to retrieve that which belongs to me." He pointed at Lothíriel, finally turning his face from Zwendi. Éomer saw Lothíriel shiver silently and stepped in front of her protectively. As soon as his view of Lothíriel was cut off, his smirk became a sneer and he looked down at Zwendi once again.

"She does not belong to you, or any other person." Éomer's knuckles were white from how tightly he was gripping his sword.

"That shows how much you know, barbarian." Na'man scoffed. "But if you wish to contend against the gods' will, perhaps there should be a duel." He pushed his sword into a scabbard. "_Sok vik tekofee ut rolm rem zamzes kete, or kete lilip yeskil wanor te lepros farl, mil cunnan ofkalek ekomu._" Na'man's looked as if he were explaining house rules to a child, instead of a chief and warrior.

"_Ut rov zaas vol skas!_" Zwendi shouted. It was apparent that he was trying to find the strength within himself to stand.

"_Om rebor rov ut zesikkor kete? Ut rolm rem zamzes._" Éomer could tell that Na'man was beginning to grow tired of the conversation. Zwendi must have felt it too. He looked up and locked eyes with Éomer. There was a fury and desperation that Éomer knew all too well. He had felt it many times in the past several years. He had watched his homeland burn at the hands of Orcs and Dunlendings, and on the Pelennor Field he had fought for the future of all men. He understood and nodded. The relief in Zwendi's eyes was hardly apparent to anyone but those who knew to look.

"_Kete rov pekej we chinnek_." He stared up at Na'man.

"_Bopar rolma kosh pos chinneku kim kete? Ut emast te kokukee woh we zamzes te ve zes. Pels we chinnekom rolm zamzes monem chinnekom._" Na'man chuckled.

"_Kete emast we jefor bopar beh pos ut jusus._" Zwendi pointed at Éomer and smiled coldly at Na'man. "Éomer is chief of a great tribe and has much land in the north. It is enough to satisfy the laws."

Na'man studied Éomer more keenly before his chuckle turned into a full laugh. "You would stake the lives of not only the Oracle, but your entire tribe on a foreigner? You're a bigger fool than I thought. Very well. If this _chief_ is willing to fight me in your place, I will accept the terms."

"The _zamzes_ will take place outside of town, close to the river. It will begin once the sun touches the western sands, it will begin." Zwendi stated calmly.

"Very well," Na'man sighed as though he had just granted the wish of a child. "I suppose the _mheydar_ and _mheydor_ need time to say goodbye." As he turned to walk away he called over his shoulder. "And don't try to run, Oracle. Yusraa will find you if you do, and then you won't have your protectors any longer."

**Translations:**

**Zwendi Chinnekom, vik lilipa soa kasik posket cun jeklap yesk yol. - Zwendi Chief, it has been too long since we last saw each other.**

**Vol beh eram, Na'man. Kete lilip kishefa woh sekpomaa ut pe kolb rishlowee. - This it true, Na'man. I have dreamed of meeting you for many years.**

**Vik beh jajak te lilip soa hewena. Vemjak kete, rebor rila ut eks ve yekkor kete pondosa pe ut mesons volal rishlowee pepsar? - It is good to have been missed. Tell me, how did you like the gift I left for you all those years ago?**

**Emast val ishkosheeu lilip yaposta te zesu. Pezzik zeshkesu rov rem emast bessas low ut urn zes. - Know that your actions have led to your death. Even your soul will not know peace when you are dead.**

**Vop ut ovet rem so hekomaa lowim vemjakaa. Nep ut lalom sasseb, yel om lepros vik! - Then you should not be wasting your time talking. If you want revenge, tray and take it!**

**Kete messason emasta ut rova te kete posras. - I always knew you would kneel to me someday.**

**Sok vik tekofee ut rolm rem zamzes kete, or kete lilip yeskil wanor te lepros farl, mil cunnan ofkalek ekomu. - But it seems you cannot duel me, so I have every right to take her, along with your pitiful tribe.**

**Ut rov zaas vol skas! - You will die this night!**

**Om rebor rov ut zesikkor kete? Ut rolm rem zamzes. - And how will you kill me? You cannot fight.**

**Kete rov pekej we chinnek. - I will name a champion.**

**Bopar rolma kosh pos chinneku kim kete? Ut emast te kokukee woh we zamzes te ve zes. Pels we chinnekom rolm zamzes monem chinnekom. - Who could act as your champion against me? You know the laws of a duel to the death. Only a chief can fight another chief.**

**Kete emast we jefor bopar beh pos ut jusus. - I know a man who is as you say.**

**Zamzes - fight/duel**

**Mheydar/Mheydor - Moon-blood (Female/Male)**


	37. Chapter 37

Chapter 37

Khätif

March 3020

Éomer walked quietly towards the tree at the edge of the river. Not far from the water's edge was the area that would be his battleground. The sun was nearing the horizon though he could still see there was more than enough time before his foe would arrive. He took a seat on a nearby tree stump as he unsheathed Guthwine. From his pocket he pulled out a whetstone and began to slowly run it along the edges of the blade. The rhythmic sound, accompanied by the movement of the water close to his feet was soothing. As he continued, instead of hearing or seeing, he felt Lothíriel walking towards him. His lips curved upward slowly into a grin as he turned his head. She walked so silently, she could have been a shadow, but all the same, he had known she was near. It was as if his very being acknowledged her presence.

"You've more armor than that I hope." Her voice was quiet and solemn.

"I brought more, though if I had known how truly hot it was in Harad, I would have left most of it to make room for anything else that would have been useful." He turned his attention back to Guthwine. "But do not worry for me. I am determined to not lose this fight." He had to hold his tongue before he added, '_to not lose you.'_

* * *

The sky had already grown dark and the moon was beginning to peek up from the horizon when Na'man and his party arrived. In the dirt was a large circle and around it were four zesor, each holding a torch as steadily as statues. Their faces were covered in the pasty white paint that reminded Éomer of skulls. He studied Na'man. The two opponents were similarly equipped, though Na'man held not only a curved sword that gleamed in the firelight wickedly, but also a small dagger with a blade as dark as ebony. He looked to Na'man's party as well. Aside from the woman with a raven on her shoulder, there were only men with him. Each had a curved sword, sheathed and resting against their hips.

"No man will join in this fight. If one of them attempt to aid Na'man, or if any of your men attempt to aid you, the zesor will kill that man." Zwendi whispered. "These kinds of fights are not uncommon among the chieftains. If the rules are not followed, the fight is considered null and a battle amongst all will take place." Zwendi pointed to the line on the ground and this time when he spoke, his voice was louder. "Two may pass that line, but only one may return. Until one of you has died, neither may leave the circle." Éomer nodded. He took a few steps until he was in front of Éothain.

"I hope I have not caused too much worry for you, Éothain." Éomer grasped his friend's arm tightly.

"You have always caused me worry, but I suppose you've faced worse odds and made it out alive." He returned the grasp. "Make it out alive this time too." Éomer stepped even closer.

"No matter what happens out there. Keep Lothíriel safe." Éomer added in Rohirric as he locked eyes with Éothain until he nodded. They let go of each other and Éomer took a few more steps toward the circle. As he reached the line, he turned and Lothíriel was there. He could feel her anxiety, though she tried to mask it. Quietly, Éomer dropped to both of his knees in front of her. He waited for a moment in the stunned silence.

"Will you bless me?" He turned his face upward slightly. Lothíriel nodded and Éomer dropped his face once again. He felt her two hands press against his head before leaning down and gently kissing the area between them.

"Do not lose." She whispered before straightening. Éomer took a moment before standing again.

"I will return to you." He smiled reassuringly. He handed her the sheath of his sword before stepping over the boundary to his small battlefield. On the other side, Na'man looked at Éomer through narrowed eyes, his lips twisted into a malicious sneer. He shifted his gaze from Éomer and to Lothíriel.

"Pay close attention, Oracle. I mean for this to be the first of many lessons that you will learn. Before the end, you will bitterly regret trying to run away from me." With the last word he stepped over the line, allowing the duel to begin.

* * *

Lothíriel could feel her heart beating so hard it was a wonder that no one else heard it. Éomer and Na'man were circling each other slowly, each measuring the other's abilities as best they could. The light of the fire from the torches gleamed off the blades of the two swords. Each second seemed to drag on for an eternity until suddenly, without any warning, the two stepped forward and the metal clashed. In the silence, the ringing was nearly deafening. Their blades were locked together and she saw Na'man's lips moving, though she couldn't hear what he said. It clearly affected Éomer because he took a single step back, letting Na'man's sword go free.

The sneer that had been on his face transformed to a smile, though it was so dark and wicked that Lothíriel had to fight the shudder that crawled down her spine. He wasted no time in taking advantage of the opening Éomer had left him, but his strike hit only air as Éomer dodged to the side, swinging fluidly at Na'man's leg. The blow nearly landed but instead of hitting flesh and bone, it struck a line across the dirt, causing dust to fly up with the tip of the blade. On and on the cycle continued, each blow being dodged within a hair's distance. Each times the blades would occasionally meet each other with a clash, Lothíriel would jump, her heart skipping a beat. She didn't want to watch, but she couldn't take her eyes off of the two of them.

Na'man caught Lothíriel's anxious expression and looked at her for a split second before taking three steps backwards, nearing the line. He took a defensive position before speaking loudly and clearly. "My dear," his voice was as silken as always, though to Lothíriel it felt akin to slime, "I'm surprised that you're so worried for your former love." He sneered as Éomer inched closer, looking for any opening. "But, if it means so much to you, I will make sure that you are not separated from him." He began to laugh haughtily. "Even after the body is mere bones in your bed."

Lothíriel felt the blood rush from her face as the image of Éomer, long dead, lying beside her filled her mind. Her throat filled with bile, but she managed to swallow it. Na'man's laughter increased as Éomer covered the remaining distance. Éomer swung more rapidly, no longer acting with much care for his defense. Not that it mattered. Na'man was so busy defending and dodging that he could hardly get a swing in until he finally left is shoulder open. Éomer took the opening and brought his blade downwards. Na'man pitched forward, causing Éomer's blade to pierce the skin, but not deeply enough to cause much harm. At the same time, Na'man struck out at Éomer's legs with his dagger, before rolling away to the side.

Blood glistened down Na'man's arm, but instead of an expression of pain, there seemed to be a gleeful triumph about him. Lothíriel turned her attention to Éomer. He was standing defensively, his back to Lothíriel, but as he began to edge around the circle, she saw why Na'man had looked pleased with himself. Éomer's trousers were cut at his thigh and the skin that she could see underneath was shiny with blood. She clutched her hands together to keep from fidgeting nervously.

* * *

Éothain let out a shaky breath. The cut on Éomer's leg had been too close to the femoral artery, but thankfully had just missed it. It was bleeding as could be expected, but given the amount of blood, it hadn't been too deep. Éothain had been beside Éomer since he had begun to train with a sword. The two were as close as brothers. The fight had carried out in a rather predictable manner up until both men were wounded. The more serious injury was clearly made by Éomer, but there was a sense of unease that Éothain couldn't shake. The Haradric man was clearly pleased with himself, but he couldn't figure out why, but after years of training and experience, his warrior's instinct was not often wrong. Although Éomer had been cut, it was little more than a scratch. After being wounded, Na'man seemed to stay along the edges of the circle, moving defensively as if he was an animal tamer circling a wild lion.

"Since you won't live past this night," he called out tauntingly, "I suppose I should tell you how I plan to teach the Oracle a lesson about defying me." Éothain watched as Éomer's already dark expression grew even more murderous.

"There is nothing on this earth that she needs to learn from you." He growled as he thrust forwards. It nearly hit, but Na'man circled away, out of Éomer's range. When Éomer realized that he was overextending himself, he brought his sword back and took a defensive stance. With slow, short movements, he inched closer to Na'man. As Éomer grew closer Na'man took a few slices before skirting away again the the edge of the circle.

"You should give up while you still have time." Na'man taunted as he circled around Éomer, "the gods are on my side, quite obviously. No god would care about a man who would lie with his own horse." He sneered, "no decent woman either." He shrugged, "I suppose that means if the Oracle is in love with you, as you obviously desire, she would be a horse lover's whore?"

Éomer didn't even respond except to lash out angrily. The crashing blade knocked against the curved sword so quickly and with such ferocity that Éothain was a bit surprised that he didn't see sparks ignite between the weapons. Éomer's intensity didn't last for very long. After only a few minutes of his enraged battering, he began to slow.

Something was wrong. After all the years that Éothain had seen Éomer fight, he knew that he had better stamina than that, especially if his opponent had foolishly made him angry. All of that experience seemed a pittance as he watched his king's movements grow slow and sluggish. He no longer looked like the prestigious warrior who had prepared over the past several hours for a fight to the death, and instead looked as though he had just left one of Rohan's best taverns after drinking more ale than was good for any man.

* * *

The world was spinning under Éomer's feet. How he managed to remain standing was a mystery to him. Every time he looked up and tried to focus on Na'man in front of him, he felt bile rise in his throat. His arms were growing stiff and his sword felt as heavy as it had when he was only a child. His leg throbbed painfully. Out of everything, that pain felt the strangest. Firstly, it shouldn't have been hurting more than an itch, which it had in the beginning when the blade had pierced his flesh, but shortly thereafter it had begun to tingle and pulsate as he had moved forward and attacked Na'man. It wasn't long after that frenzied attack that the dizziness had set in.

He heard laughter, though it was not joyful, but instead malicious and dark. With that laugh Éomer knew he had to push past these sensations. After the fight was done, he could give into the dizziness and pain, but now, he had a job to do. He had made a promise to Lothíriel. He had made a promise to her family. He had to protect the woman he loved. He would not lose this fight! He took several deep breaths. With each exhale, he shunned each discomfort to the back of his mind, giving it no more thought. He had survived much worse battles, where the odds were stacked against him and not only survived, but had come out victorious.

The sun had already gone past the horizon and the only light came from the torches surrounding the two men. Na'man was still on the other side of their small battleground, his head back and shoulders heaving as he laughed at his assumed victory when, with a rush of exhilaration, Éomer, like a lion striking out from the shadows, silently launched himself forward with every bit of power he could muster, his sword tip pointed directly at Na'man's chest.

The first sound Éomer heard was the clatter from Na'man's sword and dagger as it fell from his hands to the ground. The laughter turned into a gasping cough. His eyes came forward and a look of absolute shock was met with Éomer's resolute gaze. Taking another deep breath, Éomer stepped back and with one swift motion, he pulled the now reddened blade from Na'man's body. Na'man fell back, the blood coloring the dirt and sand beneath him. In that same instant, he heard a cry of anguish and saw the white haired woman bolt past the torches, skidding to a stop on her knees in front of Na'man.

"No,"she sobbed as she collected his head in her lap. She bent forward as Na'man's body began to convulse. The dizziness was beginning to overcome him again, and this time, he didn't have the wherewithal to remain standing any longer.

* * *

As Éomer's body began to fall forward, several rohirrim rushed forward and caught their wounded king before hoisting him up and carrying him off the battlefield. Zwendi limped forward and held out a hand, indicating that the men of the mark stop. When they did, he inspected the cut on Éomer's leg closely and without a word straightened, a hardened look on his face.

"Bring me the sword," he called out to one of the zesor. The man followed the instruction silently. Zwendi ran his finger across the side of the blade near to the edge. His fingertips were oily as he raised them. He touched them to his tongue and tasted the oil before spitting multiple times. "_Cerastes!_ " He addressed the rohirrim, "Take him to my tent, immediately. I have antidotes for many poisons." He turned back to some of the men of his tribe. "_Yapost vepek jajak mheydor te gonkepo om mirs siatekaa forl pe pest ov we cerastes. Ponwem estorou!_ " Two men jumped forward and hastily led the rohirrim into the mess of tents. Lothíriel was about to follow them but Zwendi stopped her. "You cannot leave just yet. You must stay and witness the end of the zamzes in Lord Éomer's place." Lothíriel looked beyond the tents as the last of the rohirrim disappeared behind tents. She nodded to Zwendi. He then turned and faced the rest of his men and the zesor. "_Ser volal jeforee om val defar,_ " he pointed to Na'man's party and Yusraa who was still sobbing over Na'man's lifeless corpse. "_Om, kosol te vik val ve pestatee zaasik beh pestasa sovom ve sil lilipa we ekar te satar om jokam foh canan tekom. Ber jefor bopar rova yel te akol we zamzes san valal we assis lilipa re wanor te achir foh teskas ipos ve sil._ " The men and zesor he was addressing stepped forward and within a few moments, had the men from Na'man's party bound along with Yusraa.

Two women stepped forward and began to wrap Na'man's body in a thick, white cloth. They did it so efficiently that it was clear they were not strangers to such a practice. To their side another pair of women was setting up logs that looked much like an altar. As soon as the altar was built, the largest of the zesor stepped forward, and lifted Na'man's body off the ground and placed it onto the altar. Another Zesor, nearest to Lothíriel silently stepped forward and held out a torch to her.

"In Lord Éomer's place, you must light the pyre to show that he was victorious." Zwendi whispered to Lothíriel. Taking a deep breath, she nodded and stepped forward slowly. When she touched the flames of the torch to the kindling the fire was set and she stepped back, watching as the man who had caused such grief burned to ash.

**Translations:**

**Cerastes - Deadly viper**

**Yapost vepek jajak mheydoree te gonkepo om mirs siatekaa forl pe pest ov we cerastes. Ponwem estorou! - Lead these good men to my tent and begin healing him for poison from a deadly viper. Go quickly!**

**Ser volal jeforee om val defar - Restrain those men and that woman**

**Om, kosol te vik val ve pestatee zaasik beh pestasa sovom ve sil lilipa we ekar te satar om jokam foh canan tekom. Ber jefor bopar rova ye te akil we zamzes san valal we assis lilipa re wanor te achir foh teskas ipos ve sil. - And see to it that the snake's body is burned before the sun has a chance to rise and touch his skin again. Any man who would try to win a duel in such a manner has no right to spend his eternity under the sun.**


	38. Chapter 38

**A/N: Hello Everyone! After such a battle, what will happen? I hope you'll all enjoy what I have in store for you! Please leave a review so I know how you liked this chapter.**

Chapter 38

Khätif

April 3020

Éomer's eyes were heavy. Without opening them, he tried to figure out where he was. His thoughts were somewhat muddled but he thought that he had won the fight between himself and Na'man. His head pounded so hard, perhaps everything was all a dream, built from some drunken stupor. He tried to sit up and his body protested. Letting out a hard breath, he relaxed back upon the bed he was lying in. The material of it was very strange. Nothing at all like his own bed in Rohan. The blanket covering him was so thin, it felt almost flimsy. The pounding began to decrease, slowly, but it was enough to allow him to force his eyes open. He stared for several minutes up at a canvas ceiling. He took a few breaths, allowing his head to further clear before sitting up. When he did sit up, he saw her.

Lothíriel was in a seat beside his bed, but instead of being awake and greeting him, she was bent forward, her arms crossed on the edge of his bed and her head resting on them. Her black hair was pulled back into a braid, though there were some tendrils that had escaped and were framing her pale face. He couldn't help himself from reaching out and brushing a few away from her face. Her skin was as soft and smooth. His fingers touched a small white line on the side of her forehead. It seemed to be the only mark on her otherwise perfectly formed face. She sighed lightly, nestling deeper into her arms. He shifted lightly, careful not to wake her, so as to be more comfortable as he watched her peaceful sleep. He could see her back rise and fall with each, slow, deep breath.

…

Everything was quiet. It had been days since Na'man had died and Yusraa was still sitting, bound to the post at the edge of the camp. Cel had managed to get away before the men were able to catch and cage him. When she had sent him away, only caring that he not be caught or killed, she hadn't been careful enough to ensure when he'd come back. As such, he had only returned now and was circling above her.

Her eyes hurt from so much crying. Her heart hurt from seeing the man that she loved die in front of her, and as if to make the pain worse, he had been cremated before dawn. She knew Na'man didn't love her, at least not in the way that she loved him. But she couldn't help herself from loving him, just as she couldn't help herself from feeling his loss like a blade within her own heart. Thinking on it again, pricked at her eyes, but she had no more tears to shed. Now that Cel was back, she would have her revenge.

Taking a few shaky breaths, she receded into herself until she was in that place between worlds. She didn't linger as she normally would. She rushed into Cel's body, causing the raven to go stiff for a few seconds, falling a few feet before she opened his wings. Swiftly, and silently, she flew through the tents until she made it to the center of the encampment. There was the chieftain's tent. Two of the Rohirrim stood at it's entrance. She would have to be quick. Dipping in, she saw Lothíriel sleeping and the Rohirric King was sitting up, watching her. At the site of the man who had killed Na'man, rage filled her. Despite his blade piercing into the man's flesh, it must not have been deep enough to cause his death. Just as well, she thought. This would make her revenge all the sweeter. He would feel the same pain she had felt from losing the one she loved. Just as shouts from the entrance were made, she dove, aiming for the pulsating vein on Lothíriel's neck.

…

Lothíriel heard the shouts and flapping wings and sat up in surprise. The sight she saw was terrifying. Cel was diving towards her, covering the space between them in the blink of an eye. Just before the raven reached her, it opened up it's wings and spread its talons, ready to rip into her skin. She drew in her breath, sharply, sure that it would be the last time she did. Time seemed to slow as she watched the bird, her death most likely at the edge of those sharp talons, but just before Cel could touch her, the bird's body halted with a shudder before falling down with a hard thud, an arrow jutting from his back. Looking up, she saw Glorfindel, a bow in his hand. Although he was not breathing hard, she could tell he had been running from the look of his hair. Instead of falling gently over his shoulders, it had been swept back by the wind.

"Thank you," she breathed, knowing that the elf had just saved her life. He didn't say a word, but instead nodded before covering the distance of the now dead raven in two long strides. He picked it up by its limp neck and studied it. Behind him, the two Rohirrim who had shouted out their warning, were staring past Lothíriel, obvious happiness in their normally solemn faces.

"I'll see to this." Glorfindel glanced past Lothíriel and his lips curled up slightly into a knowing smile before turning on his heel and marching out the opening of the tent. The two Rohirrim watched for a moment longer before nodding and following Glorfindel out of the tent and returning to their stations.

For a moment, Lothíriel was perplexed until she turned and saw Éomer sitting up in bed, watching her. There was a mixture of emotions written on his face. Concern mingled with an a veiled anger was in the hard line of his lips as he watched the entrance that Glorfindel had left through, then he turned his face to Lothíriel and the hard line softened and the anger transformed into concern.

"Are you well?" He queried, looking her over.

"I am." She offered a shaky smile before the realization of Éomer being awake meant. She stood, "Are you well?" She moved closer to him and put her hand on his forehead and felt that he no longer was burning with fever.

"I am well enough." He reached up and took her hand gently and guided her to sit on the bed beside him. When she was seated, he towered over her. They were so close that Lothíriel could smell Éomer's earthy scent. It was so rich and pleasant that she simply sat and breathed it in. His muscled chest was bare and she could see the many white and pink lines of old battle wounds. After a few minutes of silence, she realized what she had been doing and blushed a deep red and looked down.

"You've been ill from Na'man's poisoned blade for nearly a week." She studied the weave of the blanket, covering Éomer's legs. She bit her lip as she remembered the strange feeling of pain and fear as she watched him go through hot and cold flashes in his sleep. "You awoke a few times, but each time you would be delirious and your men would have to come in here to hold you down to keep you from injuring yourself."

She glanced up and saw that he was watching her silently. The concern was gone and was now replaced with a quiet happiness that started in his eyes and softened every hard line in his face. She didn't look away this time. "I was so afraid that you would never wake." She touched her chest and felt her heart beating rapidly. "It took Zwendi some time to figure out what the poison was exactly and when he did, he said it might have already been too late." She felt tears pooling in her eyes as she continued. "And last night you were so feverish that Zwendi said if you didn't break the fever then, you would never recover." At the thought, the tears fell down her cheeks. Despite not remembering him beyond their encounter in Khätif, he had fought and nearly died for her. She couldn't deny that she felt drawn to him. When he looked at her, she felt a pain deep in her heart, along with a yearning.

Still silent, Éomer lifted his hand from hers and pressed his palm against her cheek and rubbed his thumb gently, wiping the tear away. She closed her eyes and pushed against the palm, feeling the calloused flesh against her. It was warm. Finally, after minutes of lingering in the quiet of his touch, he spoke.

"I could not die." He whispered. "I made you a promise that I would return to you, and the men of the Mark always keep their word." She felt his other arm brush against her as he placed his other hand against her back before pulling her towards him. Her own hands brushed against his chest. She could feel the edges of each of his muscles as she grew closer and closer. Following the lead of his hand, she tilted her head upwards, her lips parting slightly, letting out a shaky breath. "Do not cry, _mín héahlufe_." She could feel the breath of his words against her own lips. They sat like that for only a few seconds before he dipped his head and brushed his lips against hers.

His lips were soft and warm. Her own hands moved up his chest as he pulled her even closer into him, their bodies fitting together perfectly. The hand that was on her cheek moved back and cupped the back of her head, tangling into her braid. She could taste the salt from her tears as the kiss deepened. Her own hands reached upwards and tangled into his long, golden hair. His tongue brushed against the parting in her lips, encouraging them to open. When she did open them, he entered her mouth slowly at first, tasting her and taking some of her breath with him as he drew back. They continued until they were both breathless.

When the kiss ended she rested her head against his chest and he stroked her back. She listened as his heartbeat thundered on against her ear and suddenly she wasn't in the tent anymore. She stood in a field of grass that went on for miles and miles. A breeze flew past her, bringing the scent of the earth and morning dew. In the distance she could see something on raised earth, though it was hazy. Although she couldn't quite make it out, there was an inexorable joy that she felt when she looked at it. Picking up her skirts, she ran towards it, heedless of everything around her. It became clearer and clearer with each step and the breeze at her back became a heavy wind. Carried with that wind she could hear deep, rhythmic singing and thunder behind her. The thunder caught up with her but instead of it coming from the sky, it came from horses galloping beside her, kicking up the earth with each step.

The singing grew louder and seemed to swirl around her as she passed the gates with horses carved into it. Although she didn't see anyone, more voices joined in. The thundering slowed and left only the voices. She entered the great hall at the top of the hill and the tapestries and bright colors streamed before her. She continued forward, slow and reverent now. Her feet brushed against fur carpets and she touched the columns with carvings running up and down them. She belonged here. She knew it.

As suddenly as she had imagined that place, reality slammed back into her and she opened her eyes with a start. Éomer must have felt her slight jump, because although he didn't let go of her entirely, he loosened his grasp of her enough that she could shift and look up to him. Once again there were tears in her eyes, though this time they were from absolute joy. His expression was filled with concern but it changed to confusion as she smiled broadly.

"You came back for me." She laughed as the memories came flooding back. Although there was some pain from the memories of their separation, it melted like snow on a warm spring day as she was held in his arms. She stretched up and kissed him again, and again and again, the tears and happiness overflowing.

…

Éomer cupped Lothíriel's face in his hands, studying her carefully. Her cheeks were wet from her tears, but she was smiling so much that Éomer couldn't help but smile with her. In her eyes, he saw something he had been longing to see since he had seen her that first day in Khätif. She recognized him. It wasn't the recognition of only knowing someone for a few days, but instead, the same look of recognition she had when they had encountered each other in the Houses of Healing in Minas Tirith. Joy swept through him as he pulled her tightly into his embrace.

"How much do you remember?" He could feel himself shaking with anticipation.

"I remember everything." She turned her face upwards, looking into his eyes, gaging his own expression. "I remember meeting you when I was but a child, on my way to Imladris. I remember the Golden Hall of Edoras." She kissed him lightly again, her joy sobering slightly. "I remember the fear from the Ring War and the Battle of the Pelennor Fields, and the joy and relief when I heard the horns or of the Rohirrim." She tightened her hold on him. "I remember seeing you at the Houses of Healing and once again in my home." Her eyes grew somber as she continued. "I remember you misunderstanding and sending me away from you and the pain and loneliness of those days. Oh Éomer, I was so disheartened and afraid I'd never see you again, but," her smile returned, "you come back for me."

"I was a fool." He stroked her hair gently as he spoke. "I let my pride get the better of me. I should have gone after you the day I saw you depart for your ship to Dol Amroth. Instead, I was a coward and only sent a letter. When you had been taken, everyone thought you had killed yourself." He remembered the pain he had felt bitterly. "I was so distraught at the thought of your death. I couldn't imagine a world without you in it. I cursed myself," he shuddered, "once, in one of my most private moments, I cursed you for leaving me the way you did." He felt ashamed. "Finally I made my way to Dol Amroth to say a final farewell to you." He shuddered again, this time not from shame but happiness. "Words cannot express how my hope filled me when Erchirion said you might not be dead." He took gentle hold of her chin and turned her face upward and looked at her tear-streaked face. Her eyes were now dry but the smile on her face still lingered. He wiped her the wetness from her cheeks and softly kissed her again. Not with as much passion as before, but with all the love that he had felt building up within himself.

He loved the way she melted into him. He loved that for the first time in months he felt whole once again. He loved how her hands quietly roamed his skin, feeling him. He loved her sweet scent. Taking a deep breath, he sighed. "Lothíriel," he spoke quietly so as not to ruin interrupt the feeling. "Will you marry me? Will you walk beside me in this life and be my love?"

She shifted to look up at him. "Éomer, I love you." Her smile was wide and her eyes were bright. "I will marry you."

Éomer wanted to shout with joy and triumph at her response. Instead he kissed the top of her head, breathing in more of her sweet scent. "I love you too, Lothíriel. _Mín wíflufu. Mín bréostcofa_."

**A/N: And just like that, Lothíriel's memories have returned! YAY! Just in case a few of you were wondering, this is not the end. We need to see our two lovebirds not only out of Harad but happily married in the lovely city of Edoras~**

**Cross your fingers that work and my family don't keep me from writing too much so I can bring it to a close finally! I really look forward to hearing what you guys thought of this chapter!**


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